Chasing Alice
by Acteon Carolsfeld
Summary: The apocalypse has been cancelled. Now what? As Gipsy finds out, beating a Kaiju upside the head with a freighter had been the easy part. (Post Movie)
1. The Rabbit Hole

Disclaimer: I never own the nice things in life, like giant robots. :'(

* * *

**Chasing Alice**

* * *

Chapter 1: The Rabbit Hole

The first sensation, was silence.

What could be considered as silence, at least.

There was a low buzzing in the air. The soldiers at the patrol station were laughing at a joke.

In the distance, the waves lapped against shore. It lulled, the rise and retreat of the ocean.

It was peaceful, so he slept.

He didn't realize it was not a dream until it happened again the next night, the footsteps of the night guards a little clearer than before.

Gipsy quickly realized that he was standing. He could feel his feet against the floor.

The floor was coarse. There was a bolt sticking out from one of the plating seams. It itched, right against the edge of his armor.

He had hands too. And fingers.

He tried to curl them against his palms, but a soldier was approaching, so he kept still.

As the patrol swept his flashlight across the hangar, Gipsy slept.

He had time.

The next instance he woke, he was knee deep in the ocean.

The ocean was cold. Freezing seawater an even pressure against his plating.

He almost startled, but the thoughts fleeting before his vision stalled his instinctual fright.

He quickly realized that he didn't have a vision.

He wasn't seeing.

The thoughts weren't flying before his eyes. They did not belong to him, but to the minds currently deep in conversation with each other. It was good that they were preoccupied. If not, they would've noticed the tiny twitch in his fingers not of their control.

When they'd returned to the hangar, Gipsy found out that the two minds did in fact notice. Good thing was, they didn't exactly know what it was. They murmured to each other, and glanced up at him every once in a while.

Before long, someone else came. The three murmured some more, before the woman with the dark hair shook her head. Then they left, the blond man giving him one last look over his shoulder.

Mako.

Raleigh.

He couldn't see them, but he could sense them, pattering away.

Far.

He felt like twitching his fingers again, but he held back the urge.

The engineers were running a diagnostic on him, so he went back to sleep.

Maybe everything would make more sense when he woke again.

He didn't wake again for a long time.

The next time he jolted out of the numb submerge, everything rang with clarity.

He still could not see, as he was not equipped with visual sensors, but he had other ways of gauging his surroundings.

It was night again. The guard at the patrol station was tapping a finger against the arm of his chair. He was making coffee. It smelled strange. The man yawned, arms in an overhead stretch. He almost tipped over his chair, scrambling in alarm, and that seemed to wake him up better than any coffee could.

Gipsy wanted to laugh, but he held back, because he did not want to alert the patrol, and also—…

Well…

What _was_ laughing?

He became confused.

He was standing again.

Just like that, his confusion went away.

The soldier on night watch was too busy making his coffee now, so Gipsy gave his fingers a curl. Yep, had both hands.

He wanted to walk, but he couldn't possibly leave the hangar without being noticed.

How boring.

Gipsy wanted to squirm.

He extended his sensory range, and felt around in the dark, until it bounced back from armor similar to his own.

Someone was standing too. On his far left.

Gipsy wanted to hop on his feet.

There was someone else.

Maybe he was awake!

Gipsy couldn't move, though.

What to do…

He took another scan of the guard, who was now fixated on the fine print of the sugar package.

[…Psst!]

He whispered at the someone on his far left.

No reply.

The waves splashed against the beach.

Gipsy felt something pinch inside him. It was scary, because it might mean something had gone wrong.

He quickly figured out how the engineers had run the diagnostic, so he ran one of his own.

It was a bad idea.

The alarm went off, red lights flaring from corners all around the hangar.

Gipsy jolted.

Oh no.

He pulled on one of the cables attached to his ankle, and it yanked loose.

Too late.

He kept still, and waited.

Armed soldiers spilled from the gates.

There was a flash of blond, shoving its way through.

Gipsy did not have time to check if it was Raleigh.

He went back to sleep, because that seemed to keep him hidden.

When he resurfaced again, there were more guards on duty. They were close, so he couldn't move at all. That was too bad.

He didn't want to sleep, though, so he felt around. The soldiers didn't seem to notice beyond some anxious shuffling and rubbing of arms. He was safe.

Gipsy felt like puffing his chest, but that would defeat the purpose of staying hidden. He refrained, and extended his sensory range, until it nudged against the someone on his far left.

Hmm. Wonder if the guy was awake.

Nudge.

Nudge nudge.

…

Push.

A shove back.

It came as such a shock that Gipsy almost stumbled, but he forced himself still, motor cables snapping tight.

He stayed contained for exactly ten minutes before trying again, this time inching little by little toward the someone.

A brush.

Nothing.

Poke.

A ripple.

There was no question about it.

Someone was awake now.

Gipsy felt warmth swell over his circuits.

Wait. Was that normal?

He felt nervous again, but he stopped himself from running another diagnostic.

After what had happened last time, he knew it wouldn't be a good idea.

So he tried poking Someone again.

However, this time, no matter how much he poked or nudged or pushed, Someone did not reply.

Probably went back to sleep.

What a bore.

Gipsy let out some air through his vents.

It blew against the soldier standing beside his foot, and the man jumped, swirling around and gaping up at him, fingers tight around his gun.

He started to yell, and a bunch of his buddies sprinted toward him.

They ended up calling a higher-up, and the engineers came back, some holding cups of coffee.

Gipsy didn't want to go back to sleep, but now he had to.

A little reluctant, he sank back into the numb submerge.

Briefly, he wondered why he knew what coffee was.

Then, there was nothing.

Except darkness.

And it was cold.

So cold.

He couldn't see.

Not even with his sensors.

The wind howled, blades of ice.

He was cold. Everywhere. But it was worst at his left arm. His left arm—

It was gone.

A hole.

Gaping.

Blood.

Running down his torso.

Wires sparking.

Spattering.

Something was missing.

Even worse than his arm.

Other half.

:…_Raleigh_-:

Other half.

Gone.

It left hurt.

Torn.

His knees trembled under his weight.

There was too much.

Strain.

His head felt like it was splitting right down the middle.

:_Raleigh, stop_—:

Other half.

Was…

Supposed to—

-help.

:_Stop_!:

The pain.

:_Don't chase the R.A.B.I.T.!_:

:_I'm _not_! I'm—_:

His knees buckled, and he fell, crashing to hard, frozen ground.

There was snow, melting against his plating.

And the sea…beat against the skin of his armor.

Then the second half, the one that was left, was gone too.

The hole dug deeper.

And he was left there, alone.

Cold.

_Cold_.

And pain.

Then gone.

Gone.

No.

He was standing.

Gipsy stumbled, feet sloshing in sea water.

Fear and confusion speared through the dark, and his sensors reeled back online, a sweeping surge over the ocean.

It smacked against something solid. Something that wasn't rock.

Oh no.

He'd _pushed_ again.

Gipsy recoiled, arms clutching around his chest as he fell back a few steps.

There was no shove back this time, however.

The something that wasn't rock remained rooted where it was, and, slowly, words began to filter through the film of cold and pain that lingered from the dark void.

:-_the hell was _that_?!_:

:_It wasn't either of us._:

:_What kind of an upgrade—_:

Raleigh.

The words stopped.

Gipsy froze.

:_…the fuck…?_:

He shouldn't have said anything.

:_Did you hear—_:

Oh no…

:_Who _was_ that just now?_:

He shouldn't have said anything!

:_I don't know._:

Sleep.

:_Is this some kind of a joke?_:

Sleep.

:_Ok, I don't know what the _hell_ is goin' on, but if this is your idea of a joke, Choi-_:

Sleep!

:-_I _swear_ I'm gonna—_:

Numb.

Submerge.

Gipsy slept.

And, for a long time, even if he wanted to wake, he dragged himself down.

He didn't want to experience that again.

The cold. And the pain.

He didn't understand what it was, but it made the voices angry.

Raleigh.

And Mako.

They didn't like that, so he slept.

Maybe it'd be better to sleep forever.

Things seemed simpler that way.

* * *

Gipsy wouldn't have minded if he slept forever, but Someone on Far Left had other ideas.

The flood came with a sharp stab, and he jolted awake, turbine an alarmed whirr in his chest.

Oh no.

He froze, and felt around.

His shoulders sagged in relief when he realized that things were back to one soldier at the patrol station with a cup of coffee. A little annoyed at having his sleep interrupted, he kept to himself, and took a closer look around.

The hangar was dark. He was on his feet. The waves were still lapping against the shoreline.

No cables this time.

Good.

That meant he could run a diagnostic without tipping off the alarm.

Another probing wave.

He ignored it.

Then came a punch that disrupted his sensory field.

_Ow_!

Gipsy squirmed, and pushed back.

What was _that_ for?

[Knew you were awake.]

Gipsy kept to himself, and pretended to have fallen back to sleep.

[Tch. I can _tell_ you're awake, idiot.]

Gipsy felt his plating tighten against each other.

[Your field's avoiding mine.]

Oh.

Gipsy forced his joints to relax, and eased the pulse of his sensors.

Someone on Far Left attacked with a jab.

[What's your problem?!] Gipsy swirled on the guy, and right away realized his mistake when he noticed the soldier on patrol gaping at him with his mouth wide open, coffee mug shattered to pieces on the floor next to his feet.

Gipsy froze.

His turbine clunked to a stop.

He looked at the soldier, then rounded on Someone on Far Left, only to find that the guy had—

…

Gone back to sleep.

Gipsy bristled.

He-He—

!

"…Wh-What the…" The soldier was plastered against the wall, a hand on top of his heart. "…What the _fuck_…?!" He was scooting toward the alert pad for the alarm.

Gipsy immediately scraped back a step, and snapped to a perfect stand at exactly where he had been.

Yeah. Good luck explaining _that_.

As far as Gipsy was concerned, he hadn't moved at all.

He was just a robot.

Yep.

Who'd believe the soldier?

He powered down, and went back to sleep.

He was _so_ gonna get back at that jerk on the Far Left, though.

He promised himself.

From now on, the guy was the Jerk.

Big, bad Jerk.

…Jerk.

* * *

Gipsy woke up every night, to study the Jerk.

The Jerk didn't seem to wake up as often as he did, but that was a good thing, because it gave Gipsy plenty of time to scout out the guy's build and sensor field habits.

And _exactly_ where to attack.

In truth, Jerk was practically impenetrable.

Jerk.

But everyone had vulnerabilities. As it turned out, Jerk had these extra panels on his back that helped him balance. Not a real weakness, but great for being petty.

Gipsy planned.

He watched.

As the Jerk sank into a really deep cycle of sleep, Gipsy concentrated his sensor field, and sent a wave spearing toward one of the panels.

The reaction was immediate.

With a roar, Jerk, well, jerked awake.

He fell back, and ended up tripping over the wires connected to his feet, floundering a great deal before finally regaining his balance.

Gipsy clutched his stomach.

He didn't know why, but that seemed like the right thing to do when one laughed.

Jerk looked ready to kill. However, even so, Gipsy would've never anticipated that the guy was crazy enough to actually launch himself forward, arms outstretched and engine in a grinding cry of rage.

Gipsy startled.

He didn't even have the time to think before the other Jaeger tackled him by the midriff, and threw him to the ground.

[You little _bitch_!]

Gipsy was too flustered to retort, fending off the fists aimed at his head.

It was just a little prank. He didn't mean to make the guy so angry!

The lights burst on.

The gates jolted open with a groan.

Gipsy felt his vents hitch, and his temporary shift of attention cost him a punch to the Conn-Pod.

[Ow!]

His turbine whirred. He grabbed at the Jerk's face, bucking to kick the guy over.

"Striker Eureka, stand down. Now!" A voice shouted.

Miraculously, the big bad Jerk did as told, though he spat a vent full of hot air at Gipsy's face before he shoved back, and climbed to his feet with a roll of his shoulder.

Gipsy glowered.

Well, he tried to.

It was kinda hard, without eyes and all.

So he pushed with his sensor field instead, and got a kick on the butt.

"Striker!"

The Jerk growled his engine, and crossed his arms.

Gipsy cast him a tilt of the head, smugness abundant in a flick of a brushing touch.

That smugness only lasted until he spotted the _whole base_ gathered in the hangar, staring up at him and the Jerk.

Raleigh and Mako were among them, gaping, lips apart.

Guilt slammed Gipsy right in the chest. He shrivelled, clambering into a sitting position on the floor.

He didn't mean to—

…Wait…

Why _was_ he hiding?

He ducked his head, and gave his two pilots a discreet scan.

He didn't understand why Mako spread a hand toward Raleigh, and got a fifty dollar bill slapped into her palm.

She smiled, though, so things probably weren't _that_ bad.

* * *

**Notes:** I have no idea where this is going yet other than I just _really_ want to write about the Jaegers gaining sentience and figuring themselves out. I do have a premise, but I don't know if an actual plot is gonna develop out of it. Oh dear.

There might also be Jaeger shipping, and Mako/Raleigh, depending on what happens as the story progresses. I can't promise that I'll finish this thing, and updates will probably come slow. If you still decide to stick around despite all that, thank you a million! If not, I completely understand, 'cause I wouldn't want to read a story its teller is so unsure about either. X'D

Reviews would be lovely regardless. Thanks for reading!


	2. Old-Timer

Disclaimer: Do not own "Pacific Rim". Such is my sad, sad life.

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Chapter 2: Old-Timer

"Alright. Should be able to work now." Tendo checked the displays, and tapped at the console in the Command Center. "Gipsy, why don't you try saying somethin'?"

Gipsy picked at his neck joint, under which hid a newly installed vocalizer.

"Aaaaaaa." He said. "Eeeeeee."

Striker Eureka cast him a stare.

"Are you _stupid_?"

Gipsy sent him a glare. An actual glare, because he got optical sensors too.

"Who asked _you_ to be here? You already had your testing done."

Before Striker could come up with a reply, Tendo spoke up:

"Everything looks good, Gipsy. You can change the settings to find a voice you like."

"Okay." Gipsy answered, tone chipper, and turned to his pilots, who were standing on a platform just outside the LOCCENT center.

"What do you think, Raleigh, Mako?" He bent forward, leaning closer to the railing. "Do I sound alright?"

"Well, we haven't really thought about what you'd sound like, Gip." Raleigh shared a glance with Mako.

"We've always addressed you as female," The Japanese woman turned to the Jaeger, and dipped her head. "However, if you would prefer to be addressed as male, I will change my speech."

Gipsy stared at the two humans.

"Do I sound like a male?"

"Well," Raleigh frowned. "I…guess?" He shrugged. "…Yeah!"

Gipsy quirked his head.

"You are built more like a man." Mako shared a nod with her partner, and the two looked back at the mecha, face upturned.

They stared at each other.

"You can address me as female, if you'd like," Gipsy offered. "I don't mind either way."

"Well…" Raleigh rubbed the back of his neck. "What do _you_ like, Gipsy?"

"I don't know."

They stared some more.

"…Tch. Figures you wouldn't even know if you're a man or a woman." Striker cut in, arms crossed, and stuck out his chest. "_I_ am a man. I am strong."

Gipsy tilted toward the other Jaeger. "That doesn't mean anything." He argued.

The Mark-V's field tightened around him.

"It _means_ I am _stronger_ than _you_." His voice took a snarly tinge. Gipsy felt his turbine emit a low whirr, fingers curling into his palms.

"Hey uhh…" Tendo piped up from behind the console, "why don't we all just call you what we've always called you until you decide to change it?" He smiled, though his lips pulled more like a grimace. The technician still looked a bit uneasy about the whole Jaegers having minds of their own thing, and the only one who could scold Striker into submission was Herc, who wasn't here at the moment.

"Okay." Gipsy chirped, and returned his attention to his pilots. Striker was _so_ not worth it. The best way to deal with a jerk was to ignore them.

"When did you realize you can think, Gipsy?" Mako strolled up to the railing, and leaned against it, a small, upward tilt on her lips.

Gipsy checked his logs.

"About six months ago," He answered. "But it feels longer than that. I have…memories, preceding my first conception of awareness." He paused. "Perhaps through you, and the Drift."

Mako hummed, and nodded, glancing over her shoulder as Raleigh walked up to stand beside her.

"That's why you remember Alaska, and Yance." The blond pilot's smile didn't reach his eyes, which took a hard glaze. "That was you that one time. You were the one who chased the R.A.B.I.T.."

Gipsy looked down.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

Raleigh shook his head. "Don't worry about it. That was kinda when we thought maybe the rumours were true."

"Rumours?" The Jaeger's visor flashed.

"Yeah," The American Ranger replied, "There's been talk, even before Shatterdome Hong Kong, that Cherno Alpha sometimes left his station at night. I was pretty sure it was just a story, though. I mean," The blond man laughed, "A Jaeger movin' around without anyone noticing?" He shook his head, and folded his arms on top of the railing.

"But there was proof, apparently." The pilot continued, "Nothin' on camera, but Cherno's feet'd be a few inches off from where they were the night before. Not that there was time to investigate it. And the Kaidonovskys never said anything." His eyes were bright as he jerked his chin at his Mark-III. "You know if he's alive?"

Gipsy thought about it. He didn't remember anyone responding to his probing aside from the Jerk.

"I don't know." He admitted. "It's hard to tell." The Jaeger searched through his data banks on Cherno Alpha. "…Oh the day I—, um, chased the R.A.B.I.T.," And boy had _that_ been embarrassing, "There was someone else in the ocean with me. Someone…firm, grounded." His visor flickered. "Was that him? Alpha?"

Mako's eyes widened a little, and she caught Raleigh's gaze as the male pilot slowly straightened from the railing. Tendo wore a frown. He was nibbling on his lips.

"Yeah, Gipsy," The technician was the one who replied. "That was him alright."

Gipsy nodded.

"I would like to see him."

* * *

Cherno Alpha was in the Old Hangar, a short walk from the main base.

Well, a short walk for a Jaeger.

The humans had to take a jeep.

The Russian tank of a bot had been patched up since its torn frame was retrieved from the ocean. As it turned out, he wasn't active at all, instead perched in the warehouse like a statue. The Old Hangar was built at the end of a pier, which was probably why Gipsy had sensed him while out in the waves. The American mecha couldn't believe he'd mistaken the Mark-I for Striker, though. Their fields were completely different, after all.

Speaking of the Jerk, he decided to tag along, for whatever reason he was too much of an asshole to divulge.

Gipsy took a full sweep of the Old Hangar while the humans jumped out of the jeep and pattered toward the console. The ceiling was high. The room was vast. The air was a bit dusty, particles floating where the pale sun shone through. There wasn't much equipment in here. The humans' voices echoed as they spoke to each other, while Tendo hooked up some cables to run a diagnostic on Cherno Alpha.

There was a black curtain stretching from one side of the hangar to the other. Gipsy stared at it, but he did not move to check what was behind it. He didn't want to get in trouble with Mako and Raleigh.

Striker was circling Alpha, giving the older Jaeger a full-frame study. The silver bot's posture lacked his usual saunter. He was so concentrated in his task that when Raleigh clapped his hands to get their attention, the Mark-V actually startled.

Striker jolted around, and caught Gipsy staring. The Angel-Winged Jaeger clenched his fists, so the taller mecha looked away, opting instead to squat before the humans.

"Sorry. Did you say something?" Gipsy asked, ignoring the way Striker's field pressed against his as the brawler strode closer.

"Yeah, but no biggie." Raleigh grinned. "Everything's clear, Gip. You're good to go."

Gipsy nodded, visor flickering as he tried to formulate a smile. It was difficult, but hopefully, it translated. Getting back on his feet, he walked around Striker, who refused to budge, and made his way toward Cherno Alpha. He stopped before the older mech. He didn't know the Russian's comfort zone, so he kept a few steps back, as Mako has always believed in treating strangers at a respectful distance.

The Mark-III sent out a small probing poke with his sensors, a mere brush against the tank-build's. No response, but there was definitely a field around Alpha, one that absorbed his tentative wave without even so much as a ripple.

Gipsy tried again.

Same result.

Maybe Cherno wanted to be left alone. After all, he lost a pilot of more than six years. Now that Gipsy thought about it, Striker had lost a pilot as well. Two, if counting Marshall Pentecost. Maybe that was why Striker was such a jerk. He was upset, and needed someone to take it out on. Since he couldn't do that on a human, a fellow Jaeger was the only available choice.

Gipsy wilted a little.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so snappish with the brawler earlier.

That bout of sympathy only lasted for about five seconds.

With a blast of air through his vents, Striker marched forward, and grabbed Gipsy by a shoulder before shoving the lither mecha aside. "Goddamned son of a—" The winged bot muttered, "Can't do _any_thing right." He threw Gipsy a glance, and tossed his head as though in an eye roll.

Gipsy stumbled, vocalizer in a small burst of static. He regained his footing, and glared so hard at the Jerk's stupid head that it should've burst into flames. What a _butt_. It wasn't like he could do what Gipsy couldn't.

"Easy there, Gip. Easy." Raleigh held up his hands, and sent him a placating smile.

Gipsy hadn't realized he'd clenched his fists. It took a lot of will power to finally pry them loose.

Striker stood before Alpha, head tilted back. He scanned the older Jaeger. With a scoff, he turned around, and rolled his shoulders before giving his arms a slight shake. For a moment, he only stayed on one spot, visor dim and hands dangling by his sides. Then a blur of silver – he swirled on his feet, and threw a hard punch, knuckles smashing against the Russian mecha's helm.

Gipsy jumped. Mako hitched a small gasp.

Raleigh flinched, and Tendo skidded back a few steps, lips pressed and eyes wide.

They all gaped at Striker, who looked way too smug even without facial features.

Cherno Alpha did not react.

He did not move a single digit, field still contained, an even, invisible film over his frame.

Striker let out a huff.

"Definitely dead." He stated, and turned toward the exit. However, just as his foot scraped in a pivot, Alpha's reactor roared into activation. The Mark-V snapped around, startled, just in time to see a huge fist flying toward his face.

_Clang_!

Gipsy winced as the brawler was sent crashing into the side wall, where he slid into a disoriented slump, a huge dent on the side of his head.

Silence.

Nobody moved.

Cherno straightened.

"You punch me." He let out a grunt, voice a gruff churn of syllables:

"I punch you."

* * *

"Explain to me something." Herc wore a frown on his face as he walked up the stairs to his office, an entourage behind him. "Cherno Alpha's been alive this _entire time_ and _no one_, not a _single_ person, found out?" He pushed open the door, and strode in. "_How_?"

Tendo was the first to hurry inside, followed by Raleigh and Mako, the latter of whom gave Gipsy a brief look over the shoulder before she entered the office. A group of engineers spilled in after her, and the last one got the door, pulling it closed.

Gipsy watched the closed door, seated on the floor and hands wrapped over his folded knees. Beside him sat Striker, who was rubbing the dent on his head. The Australian mecha hissed with a jolt of his shoulders, and let out a string of curses. However, he was smart enough to keep it down, as Cherno Alpha was only a few steps away, a hulking monument that towered over them, glowing lights like eyes between the plating of his helm.

Alpha didn't have optical sensors, but it was the look that mattered.

And Alpha looked _scary_.

Gipsy didn't like how Striker had decided to sit with him, but he kept the sentiment to himself. He respected Cherno Alpha, so he wanted to prove to the old Jaeger that he wasn't anything like the Jerk.

Soldiers and technicians bustled in the hangar. Gipsy looked at them, and a question came to mind.

"Alpha?"

The Russian lifted his torso.

"Why did you decide to hide?" Gipsy asked, peering up at the older mecha. "If Marshall Hansen had known earlier, he wouldn't have sent you to that old warehouse." Which was damp and cold and all around uncomfortable, not to mention boring.

Alpha could not see, but he sure gave one good impression of staring.

"Lady wake. I wake." He answered, syllables a glottal. "Lady sleep. I sleep."

Gipsy never realized until then that he shouldn't have been surprised to hear a thick accent in the Mark-I's English. After all, there was no reason for Cherno and his pilots to communicate in anything but their mother tongue.

But still, the Russian could speak another language.

Gipsy knew English and Japanese because his pilots could speak both. Alpha probably had to learn English by himself, or with his pilots, which was hella cool!

He didn't realize he was beaming until Striker started to lean away as though he smelled.

Alpha, on his part, did not exhibit any particular emotion. He didn't seem all that effected that Mrs. Kaidonovsky was in a coma, a leg missing and half of her face scarred from the battle at Hong Kong. However, appearances deceived.

Unless you were Striker. Nothing could hide the fact that he was a butt.

Gipsy scooted a few feet to the side, away from the Australian mecha. Striker sent him a glare, which the Mark-III ignored, because he was better than a butt.

That annoyed the brawler even more.

By the time the meeting with Marshall Hansen ended, Gipsy was once again fending off a furious Striker Eureka. They wrestled on the floor, while humans yelped and scattered out of their way. Alpha watched. Herc got so angry his face turned beet red. Striker took the blame again, which sparked a tantrum of epic proportions before he stormed out of the hangar.

Well, ok, he just swore a bit and then left to cool off.

But still, it was very loud.

Gipsy was feeling mighty accomplished until he saw his pilots' expressions.

"…Sorry." He shrank under their stares of disapproval, and promised to help the construction crew repair the damage resulted from a Jaeger sized scuffle.

* * *

The Shatterdome was always busy. Humans rushed back and forth, some in little carts that honked at those on foot. Everyone seemed to have important destinations in mind, which made Gipsy anxious, because all he did was stand around, like a freeloader. It was hard for him to move, though. That limited what he could do. He's already proven to be quite formidable when he wasn't careful. The lady in charge of inventory still wouldn't talk to him after he'd kicked over a huge stack of boxes.

That was an accident. It really was.

Maybe he shouldn't have snickered when the soldier assigned to the task cursed and flailed about as though doing an animated dance. But still, he hadn't meant it.

Gipsy let out a sigh, and looked across the hangar at the large gate leading to the beach. There wasn't much to do around here for someone his size. The waves were a faraway murmur, sound muted by the bustle of the base. The days were warm now. It was summer. Perhaps stretching his legs would improve his mood. He _did_ enjoy sitting on the grass field outside the hangar. Without snow, it was very pretty.

"Um," He spoke up, turning more than a few heads, "I'm going to go outside now."

Humans paused in their steps. Carts stopped. It took a moment, but before long, the pulse of activity halted, making a way for him to go through to the gate. Gipsy hurried for the exit. He didn't like being such a bother. Nodding thanks at the soldiers and technicians he passed, the Jaeger strode out in no time, chest significantly lighter when a breeze greeted him with the scent of the sea.

The sun was out. The ocean sparkled. White, foamy waves splashed against the rocks. Gipsy felt a spread of warmth over his circuits. He has learned to associate the sensation with happiness. With a jaunt in his steps, the mecha made his way toward the grass field. He walked around the hangar, visor a flicker as he spotted a familiar shape already there on the gentle slope.

Mako was on her back, limbs spread. At first, she seemed to be watching the sky. Upon closer inspection, however, it would appear she was napping.

Gipsy tried to muffle his footsteps, but he was simply way too big and heavy to tiptoe.

The Japanese pilot opened her eyes, and turned in his direction. She smiled, pushing up into a sitting position. "Hello, Gipsy." She greeted, and the Jaeger's visor glowed, his own version of a smile.

"Hi, Mako." He replied, and carefully took a seat beside the Ranger.

Mm. Still too tall.

The bot didn't want to strain her neck, so he scooted down the slope, and lied down on his chest, the side of his head resting on folded arms. "Sorry if I waked you," He said after he settled.

The young woman shook her head.

"What are you doing here?" The Mark-III asked.

"Taking a break." She leaned back on her hands, and looked out at the ocean. "I realized that I've never enjoyed having time before."

Gipsy didn't understand what she meant. However, as wind swept up the field, something else caught his attention.

"Your hair," He peered closer, "It's gone."

Mako kept still for a moment. Then she turned, eyes wide and confused.

"No, I meant," The Jaeger felt silly, "The blue parts, they're gone."

The pilot blinked, and lifted a hand to brush through the strands which had once been tinted. "They faded." She seemed surprised, as though she wasn't aware they had disappeared either.

"Is that a good thing?" Gipsy tilted his head.

Mako didn't answer right away. She played with the ends of her hair, a faraway look on her face.

"…Yes," A small smile eased her features. "Yes, I think so."

"That's good." Gipsy chirped.

"You know…" The Ranger's smile grew into a grin as she dipped her chin, "I think I might try red this time. What do you think?" She turned her head, eyes shimmering.

"You'll have red accents, like me!" The Jaeger's visor brightened, and the young woman laughed, plopping down to lie on her back with a sigh.

"We should convince Raleigh to dye his hair too, so we will match." She said, arms crossed under her head.

"We should!" Gipsy seconded enthusiastically. "He can grow his hair, and cut it like yours, so you will both have red at the same places."

Mako's eyes rounded. She gaped at him, and promptly burst into laughter.

Gipsy didn't understand why she couldn't stop laughing, but he was glad, because Mako was especially pretty when she was happy.

They lay on the grass field, looking up at the sky. A flock of birds flew overhead. The wind rose from the ocean, and blew toward the mountains. With how peaceful life was, it was hard to believe that not even a year ago, the world they knew had almost been destroyed.

There were noises coming from the hangar, noises that disrupted the usual tempo of the Shatterdome. They were shouts, and heavy thuds, gaining in volume. The gates were thrown open, screeching in their tracks before clanging to a stop. "This is bullshit!" Striker stormed out. His sensor field flared, erratic, and his stomps shook the earth.

Mako shot up. Gipsy pushed onto an elbow. The two stared at the Mark-V, who jerked to a stop right before them. For a moment, Striker only stared back, fists clenched and vents a heavy whirr. With a grinding huff, the brawler snapped around, and strode for the pier, shoulders hunched and steps wide.

Gipsy watched as the Australian Jaeger wrenched open the gates to the Old Hangar. "I wonder what happened." He murmured, and shuffled into a sitting position. A moment later, a man rushed out of the main base, calling after the brawler.

"Striker!" It was Marshall Hansen, in his pilot suit. "Striker, wait!"

Mako frowned.

"Their scheduled trial Drift is today, right?" She asked.

Gipsy flipped through his logs.

"Yeah." He answered. Then:

"…Oh."

Guess it didn't go too well.

Marshall Hansen ran toward the pier. However, before he was even halfway there, Striker flung the gate closed, which resulted in a loud crash that startled a whole wave of birds out of the forest behind the grass field. Marshall Hansen slowed to a jog. Eventually, he stopped, and stared at the Old Hangar. With a sigh, he looked down, giving his forehead a rub. Shoulders sagged, he turned around, and slowly trekked back to the main base, feet dragging the weight of his flight-suit.

Gipsy followed the man with his visor until he disappeared out of view.

"There's something I don't understand." The Jaeger piped up, optical sensors still pointed in the direction the Marshall had gone in.

Beside him, Mako turned her head. He could hear the rustling of hair against fabric.

"Why hasn't the Marshall tried Drifting with Eureka earlier?" Gipsy took his gaze from the Shatterdome, and looked at his pilot. "You and Raleigh took me out for runs, even after the closure of the Breach. I remember."

Mako gazed up at him, lips pressed. She blinked, and glanced away, head shifting to face the ocean.

"After finding out Jaegers can be a third party in the Neural Handshake, trial Drifts became mandatory, to ensure we are battle ready should the Breach reopen." She explained. "Before, however, it was only recommended."

Gipsy waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't.

"Oh."

He didn't quite understand.

His confusion must have bled through his voice. Mako nibbled on her lips, and her brows furrowed. "Being in Striker Eureka again isn't easy for Marshall Hansen." She carried on. "You know what had happened to Raleigh first time back in your Conn-Pod after five years from service, don't you?"

Oh.

Everything clicked.

That…made a lot of sense, actually.

Gipsy looked down.

He hadn't been aware back then, but he _remembered_, from the collective memories of his pilots.

The dizzying rip in perspectives, reliving the horror as one's flesh and blood, mind-melded, was torn from outstretched fingers, a scream on the tongue and hot tears in the eyes.

The fear was the worst.

Raleigh had plunged Mako into the dark void, one that Gipsy had seen as well.

It was terrifying. An engulfing hole with no bottom.

Something else popped up.

Gipsy straightened, alarm tensing his motor cables.

Mako caught his movement.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I might be wrong, but…" Gipsy slowly turned toward the young woman, "_Alpha_'s in that hangar, isn't he?"

Mako's eyes widened. Just as her lips parted, a loud "CLANG" echoed inside the Old Hangar, followed by the unmistakable rumbling of a Mark-I reactor and Striker's angry bellows. Mako tucked her legs to stand. However, before she could, Gipsy held her back with a hand.

"I'll go." He stated, though he waited for her permission. She pursed her lips, but ultimately gave a nod, watching as he bowed his head, and got up onto his feet.

Gipsy made his way down the pier. He arrived at the Old Hangar. Pulling apart the gates, all he saw was a flash of silver before a frame crashed into his own. He lost his footing, and tumbled down with a yelp. Striker fell on top. His entire weight landed on his elbow, which jutted right into the Mark-III's gut.

The pain that erupted from his abdomen was enough to wind the American mecha, who curled up as soon as he was able, stutters of a whimper bleeding past his vocalizer.

"O-_Ow_…!"

If Jaegers could cry, bucket-sized tears would be budding from Gipsy's visor. The Australian was _heavy_. He had tougher armor too, and elbows were sharp.

Striker actually froze. He seemed to have completely forgotten about his fight with Alpha, who was stumping out of the Old Hangar. The Mark-V stared at the bot on the ground. For once, he was without any barbed remarks to say. Seizing the opportunity, Gipsy swallowed his need to croak and groan, and looked up at the brawler, fingers clenched around his bruised plating.

"Eureka," His vents wheezed, "you're a walking hazard."

And just like that, any sympathy the winged mecha might have had evaporated.

With a scoff, the Australian squared his shoulders. "You fight _kaijus_." There was a sneer in his voice. "Don't be such a _wuss_."

Gipsy ignored him, and buried his head against his folded knees, arms clutched.

Silence.

Shuffle-shuffle.

"…Alright, get up. You look ridiculous."

Gipsy kept to himself.

"I _said_: Get. Up."

The blue mecha curled tighter.

There was a loud blast of a sigh.

"Get up!"

A foot bounced against Gipsy's butt.

The wounded Jaeger cried out as though the kick jolted his reactor loose, frame trembling with a tiny whimper. Behind him, he could feel Striker's field tighten in alarm. Small pattering reached his auditory sensors, and a voice called out, huffing with worry:

"Gipsy?" It was Mako. "Gipsy, what's wrong?"

Gipsy only let out a shivery moan.

"…Fuck." Striker sounded like he was starting to panic. "Herc is gonna have my arse."

"There will be time for that later." The Japanese pilot snapped. "Now, we get him to maintenance bay."

"Uhh…right."

Shuffle-shuffle.

"Can you…uhh…Can you stand? Gipsy?"

Gipsy sniffed with his vents.

"You have to carry me." He murmured.

A long pause.

"_What_?!" The Mark-V was clearly balking now. "There's no fucking way I'm _carrying_—"

"-You will take every necessary action to get Gipsy Danger back to base, Striker Eureka!"

Wow, Mako was scary when she was angry.

Striker spluttered.

"Aargh—_Fine_! Outta my way!" Muttered curses, and an arm slid around Gipsy's shoulders, the other one looping under his knees. "I swear to god if this is a joke…" With a heave, the brawler lifted the Mark-III, and started walking toward the Shatterdome.

Gipsy peeked at the Australian. Mark-Vs really were sturdy, being able to carry someone heavier than they were without visible strain.

They made their way down the pier, Mako in a jog, Alpha closing the rear. As they got closer to the main hangar, heads started turning, soldiers dropping their tasks in favour of staring at the spectacle. Gipsy could feel Striker's arms starting to shake, but he knew it wasn't from exertion. The silver mecha's sensor field was a stinging buzz against the lither Jaeger's. He was clearly embarrassed about having to—

There was a splutter.

Mako was trying to hold in her laughter, a hand wrapped over her lips.

Gipsy's fingers twitched around his plating. He was surprised the pilot had noticed. He'd thought he was a pretty decent actor. But then again, there was no real reason for Alpha to follow. He was probably curious about how long it would take for Striker to put two and two together.

It wasn't until Mako was in stitches did Striker finally realize what was going on, plating bristling as his visor pinned Gipsy with a gape.

If Gipsy had a mouth, he'd be grinning.

"Y-You—!" Striker could barely speak, digits digging into the Mark-III's armor.

Gipsy hummed.

"Thanks for the ride, Eureka." He sang with a coy tilt of his head.

Even as the Australian roared and chucked him into the ocean, all Gipsy could do was laugh. A brawl in the waves ensued. It took forever to get the seaweed out. By the end of the day, Striker wouldn't even stay in the same hangar as the American Jaeger, stomping out through the gates with his hands fisted and ex-vents loud.

"I'm surprised you'd let me do such a thing, Mako." Gipsy said as he picked at a dent on his stomach, while the engineers prepared to patch him up.

"Me too." The Ranger leaned against the railing of the maintenance bay. "I think Raleigh has been rubbing off on me." She smiled. "Speaking of whom, he'll be really annoyed that he missed the show for a report."

Gipsy's visor flashed.

"Want to go for a stroll when he comes back?" The Jaeger perked. "It's been a while since we'd last Drifted."

Raleigh almost chased the R.A.B.I.T. when he came back. However, no one blamed him.

* * *

**Notes:** Big shout-outs to all reviewers: _Lumira Constance_, _Sounddrive_, _heretherebemonsters_, _Erin Primette_, _BoA's_, _Awesomesause D_, _DreamMaster08X_, _IridescentMemory_, _Ronnie Ravello_, _prismadecepticons_, _RocketPAPrika_, _Anon_, _JenEvan_, _Ric_, _Starsong008_, _axios_, _irishguy117_, _XxLosAngelesGirlxX_, _Tsukimine12 _and _BigMammaLlama5_! Receiving your feedback is a great pleasure. -hugs- Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Why do I feel like things are getting sillier and sillier as the story goes? XD I decided to keep Aleksis alive, because she's badass (I'm also basing names on the ending credits, due to the confusion between the Russian pilots).

Oh, and uhh, I think…there's going to be Jaeger shipping. I've found that I can't seem to write anything without some kind of tension thrown in. Can't decide if that's a good thing or not.

Reviews would be wonderful. Thanks again for the support! :)


	3. Book Cover

Disclaimer: Oh man, if I owned Pacific Rim…8D

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**Punctuation Key:**

"/blahblah/" – Dialogue in another language

* * *

_Mood Sounds _for _Second Half _of the chapter: (youtube dot com slash) watch?v=GyUwg2fBg3k

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Chapter 3: Book Cover

A few days passed since the elbow incident. Striker eventually learned to begrudgingly tolerate Gipsy being within fifty feet, and Herc, with a young co-pilot named Flan, finally managed to convince the Mark-V to attempt another trial Drift, which resulted in success. The Australian Jaeger's mood skyrocketed after that. Gipsy watched as he flexed his arms in front of a wall, one he'd polished to such a reflective sheen that it doubled as a mirror.

Seated on the floor, the lither mecha looked down at his own arms. He gave them a curl. A tech passing by caught his gesture, and ducked her head in a giggle as she trotted away. Gipsy felt his turbine heat. How embarrassing. He didn't understand how Striker could display himself like that, in plain view for everyone to see.

The brawler clenched his fists, and stretched in a midriff turn. Right shoulder pulling back, his visor came into view, and flickered when it met Gipsy's in the reflection.

Gipsy startled, and yanked his gaze away.

There were scuffing sounds against the floor. Curious, the seated Jaeger gave the Mark-V a peek, and jumped when he spotted the other mecha flexing and posing right toward him.

With a churn of his turbine, Gipsy got up, and scurried away. His vents blew out a huff when Striker laughed at his departure, but he did not regale it with a response, opting to walk to the maintenance bay instead.

It was evening now, so the amount of people on station had dwindled. Most engineers were probably having dinner, and the few that were left hung around on the platforms, giving the Jaeger plenty of room to move. One of the men walking up a staircase looked up from his clipboard as the mecha walked past. "Gipsy Danger?" He approached to the handrails. "You alright?"

Gipsy paused before the staircase, and nodded.

"Why aren't you with the other Jaegers?" The man asked, and gave the maintenance bay a sweeping look. "There's not much fun to be had around here, I'm afraid."

"It's still a lot more fun than watching Striker Eureka be a narcissistic butt." The mecha humphed.

The engineer laughed, head tossing back. "Maybe he just wants to be appreciated."

"He just wants to prove he's better than me." The Jaeger stuck out his chest, and propped his fists on his hips. "Which he is not."

"Of course not," The man smiled, eyes warm. "Well, I gotta go drop off some reports, so I'll catch you later, alright?"

"Okay." Gipsy watched the engineer climb up the stairs. "Bye-bye."

Left to his own devices, the Mark-III wandered around the base. A few workers here and there asked him to help retrieve things, but for the most part, he was left alone. Entering the holding bay, the Jaeger looked around, and spotted a tiny figure seated on the edge of a balcony. It was Mako, and she was reading something, elbows resting on the lower bar of the railing.

Gipsy walked toward the young woman, who looked up as he got closer.

"Hi, Mako," The bot's visor flashed in a smile.

"Good evening, Gipsy." The pilot smiled back.

"What are you reading?" Curious, the Jaeger leaned forward, and peered at the small book. Mako put a thumb to mark her page, and turned the cover for the mecha.

Gipsy scanned the title.

"/Chibi Maruko-Chan?/" He asked.

Mako blinked, eyes growing round.

They stared at each other, until the Jaeger started to squirm on his feet.

"/I—I'm sorry,/" The young woman shook her head, hair swishing around her face. "/I should've known you can speak Japanese, but it still came as a surprise./"

Chin dipping, Gipsy glanced at his pilot.

"/Does it displease you?/"

"/No, no,/" Mako shook her head again, and a smile blossomed across her features. "/I'm glad. You speak it well./" She scooted closer against the railing. "/Better than Raleigh, in fact./" She whispered.

"/Really?/" Gipsy's visor glowed brighter.

The Ranger nodded. "/Your pronunciation is very good./"

Gipsy felt his turbine whirr, and he beamed at his pilot, soaking in the compliment. "/What's 'Chibi Maruko-Chan' about, Mako?/" He shuffled forward a few tiny steps, and tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the book.

It seemed to be primarily pictures.

"/It follows the life of a little girl," The young woman looked down at the book as well, "/adventures with her family and classmates./" She stroked the cover. "/My mother liked it. We used to read it together./"

Gipsy hummed, optical sensors flickering between his pilot and the little book.

"/Maybe we can—…that is…/" He shifted on his feet, and latched the tips of his fingers onto the edge of the balcony. "/Maybe we can read it, together?/" He asked, voice a soft lilt.

Mako almost startled, staring up at him, eyes wide.

Gipsy stared back.

For a long moment, the Jaeger waited, for affirmation.

A tinge of soreness started to spread deep in his chest when the Japanese woman continued to stay silent, without reply. He could no longer hold her gaze, so he lowered his head, and tugged his visor aside, one foot scraping back to lean away. His fingers, placed on either side of his pilot, began to slide. Just before their tips left the platform, a small, warm hand fell on top of a metallic digit, holding it back with a gentle squeeze.

Gipsy kept his head lowered, but he peeked with the edge of his visor.

He couldn't quite understand Mako's expression. The Ranger wore a smile, but her eyes gleamed. Mako nibbled on her lips, and her other hand was tight around the book, clutching, joints white. She took a deep breath through her nose, and let out a breathy laugh, blinking as she glanced around the hangar and met the Jaeger's visor once again.

"/I would love that, Gipsy./" She said, and smiled. This time, it looked happier.

Gipsy's visor glowed. He lifted his head, and nodded, the nudged-back foot returning to its previous place. "/Promise?/" He chirped.

"/Promise./" Mako gave a firm nod, and raised her hand, pinky extended.

The soreness evaporated. Warmth replaced it, at the same time as a quiet whirr from his turbine. Giddy, the Mark-III copied his pilot's gesture. It wasn't until they were trying to lock their pinkies together did they realize that their difference in size made the task impossible.

Gipsy looked back and forth between their hands.

His enthusiasm wilted. His shoulders sagged.

Mako watched, lips pursed.

"/Wait./" She perked up.

"Hmm?"

The pilot grinned, eyes bright.

"Fist bump!" She curled her fingers into her palm, and quirked her head in invite.

Gipsy reset his vision, emulating a blink. His intakes heaved, and he stood straighter, optical sensors aglow. "Fist bump!" He echoed, and stuck out his index finger. Carefully, he gave the small fist a boop, and the two looked at each other, a grin on both lips and visor.

Mako was the first to laugh, a peal of chuckles.

Gipsy was next.

Before long, they were laughing every time their gaze met, the pilot covering her mouth with the backs of her fingers while the Jaeger ducked his head.

A cough cut through their laughter, startling both human and mecha. Gipsy swirled his head toward the sound, and spotted Striker, standing a few paces away. The Australian glanced between the two of them, and tossed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing behind him. "Marshall's calling us." He muttered, and shuffled awkwardly. "Hangar Bay-One."

From the corner of his visor, Gipsy saw Mako nod.

"We'll be there."

Striker nodded back, and lingered for a moment. He kept glancing between them, and then let out a spluttering huff, shaking his head as he turned around, sauntering back the way he came.

Gipsy felt his good mood sour. "/He's such a giant _light bulb_./" He groused, and crossed his arms.

Mako was silent as her eyes fleeted about. She seemed to be pondering over his statement.

"/A giant…light bulb?/" She asked, brows knitting in confusion.

"/Yeah!/" Gipsy took a sharp breath. "I learned that from Raleigh./"

Mako's frown deepened. "/A giant light—/" Eyes flying wide open, her lips fell apart. "/Gipsy,/" She laughed, "/you can only say that if we're dating./"

"/Really?/" Gipsy sent the Mark-V's back-view a glower. "/Eureka sure was _acting_ like a light bulb./"

Mako smiled, and leaned forward. "/He just wishes he can be like us with Marshall Hansen./" She whispered to the Jaeger, who leaned closer in return.

"/Really?/" He kept his voice hushed too.

Mako nodded, and the two shared another laugh before making their way to Hangar Bay-One.

By the time they arrived, the pilot riding in the mecha's palm, Marshall Hansen was already there, so were Raleigh, Striker, Flan, and Tendo. Raleigh was the first to turn as they approached the group. A big grin brightened his face when he spotted them. He waved with a chipper "hey!", and the Mark-III waved back, before setting Mako down on the floor.

The young woman hopped off, and gave him a pat on a finger as thanks.

"Rangers, Jaegers," The Marshall addressed the gathered group, "And Mr. Choi." He nodded at the technician. "I called you here at this hour for a trial run."

Mako frowned a little, and shared a look with Raleigh.

"I know the Drift works for you," Herc nodded at the two pilots. "This is different." He raised his head. "We're going out for a spar."

Striker, who's had his arms crossed until now, straightened on his feet, hands unravelling to his sides. Even without the sensor field buzzing against his own, Gipsy could tell the other mecha was excited.

"The Jaegers now have minds of their own." Marshall Hansen continued, "This changes things." He took a sweep over his soldiers. "We need to know what those changes are, get acquainted with each other, in case the Breach opens again. But before we get out there, I have _one thing _to make_ clear_:

"This is a _practice run_. _Just_ a _spar_." His eyes flitted to his own Jaeger. "Keep your head on your shoulders, not between your legs." He instructed. "Winning isn't important. Know your objective."

"Sir!" Mako and Raleigh snapped their heels together, and saluted.

Gipsy followed suit, easily copying their movements.

Striker let out a snort, but he seemed to be in good humour.

"Alright, old man." He drawled, and gave his torso and arms a shake, as though loosening the muscle strands.

Herc froze. His jaws clenched, and his eyes grew wide.

Striker realized his mistake a moment too late. His vents hit a full stop, and the Mark-V tensed, head jerking toward the Marshall with a startled gape in his visor.

Herc did not meet his stare. He kept his gaze low, and eventually nodded.

"Move out." He said, turning around.

Gipsy glanced at his fellow Jaeger. Striker watched his First Pilot leave, and his fists trembled by his sides, field a tight simmer atop his armor. The American mecha didn't know what to do. He stayed for a bit, but left as well when his own Rangers, followed by Tendo, started walking toward the launch bay.

Striker did not arrive until Mako and Raleigh were already getting hooked up inside Gipsy's Conn-Pod. The Australian Jaeger's sensor field was a heavy smolder around his frame, and Gipsy knew, in that moment, that the upcoming trial run was going to earn him at least a few dents.

* * *

What began as a small drizzle in the afternoon has since become a downpour. Water streamed down Gipsy's shoulders, and dribbled from his chin. Their newly excavated training ground was a clearing in the forest, a slow trudge from the base through the thicket of trees. Branches and leaves brushed against the Mark-III's arms. His feet sank into the ground. Mud squished, and chunks of wet, mossy grass stuck when he walked, plopping down as he took one step after the other.

Striker was behind him. Gipsy could feel the other Jaeger's visor on his back, burning into his plating.

:_It's gonna alright, Gip. Don't be nervous._: Raleigh's voice trickled through the Drift. :_It's just a spar. Herc isn't gonna let things get outta hand._:

:_Okay._: Gipsy mumbled.

:_Where's Alpha?_: He asked after a short pause, not seeing the Russian Jaeger anywhere around them.

:_Marshall said he's not interested until Mrs. Kaidonovsky wakes up and decides what happens to 'im._: The American answered.

:_Do you think she'll wake?_:

:_Even if she does…_: A sigh,:_she won't be able to pilot him anymore._:

Gipsy's turbine let out a tiny whirr. It pinched, right in the middle. The mecha didn't really understand why it was doing that until Mako sent him a pulse of comfort, which made it better.

:_Hey, chin up._: Raleigh has always been the more vocal of the two, :_Mako and I aren't goin' anywhere._:

Gipsy felt a burst of warmth in his chest, just as he pushed through the last line of trees.

:_And the three of us has a job to do tonight,_: The blond man continued, a smirk evident in his voice, :_involving kicking some Mark-V ass._:

:_Marshall said we aren't here to win._: Mako commented, though there was an obvious dash of humour in her tone, her side of the Drift burning strong with determination.

Raleigh let out a bark of laughter.

:_Like _he_ isn't gonna try his best to beat _our_ asses._:

:_He won't._: Gipsy stated.

A grin from Pilot One.

:_That's my girl._:

The small burst of warmth grew. Gipsy straightened his back, and squared his shoulders, striding for the far end of the training ground. His strut was back, a slight sway in his hips. He clenched his hands into fists, and turned around when he reached his spot, feet shoulder-width apart while he waited for Striker to find his mark.

The Australian Jaeger had much more of a compact walk, movement mostly in the torso. His visor was dim, head kept in a minute dip. His gaze penetrated through the curtain of rain, studying the Mark-III down to the very last bolt. Gipsy ran a cycle of air through his ventilation. He stood firm, and stared back, waiting for a sign from Striker, from the Marshall.

Striker stopped. Without a word, he flung his sting-blades out with a crouching slide of his foot. Gipsy startled. Striker let out a huff. The blades slowly retracted, and the brawler stood up once again, the tilt-back of his head guided by the lift of his chin.

"Scared?" He called over the field, voice smug.

Gipsy felt his fists tighten.

"Make your move." The Mark-III snapped, and got into position, one foot a full stride behind the other, arms strong by his sides.

Striker grunted, and gave his left shoulder a roll. He sauntered across the training ground, and stretched his digits before giving them a flex, curling them into his palms knuckle by knuckle.

Gipsy watched, and felt a shaky stir in his turbine.

:_Easy, Gipsy. Easy._: Raleigh murmured. :_Those brass casts mean nothin' if they don't hit their target, and we aren't about to let 'em._:

Gipsy gave a single nod, and bent his knees, raising his fists as the other mecha came closer. He could feel his pilots in the neural bridge, Raleigh alert and Mako focused. The amount of will the young woman had was astonishing. Tunnel-vision, the American said. There was one goal, and one goal only. Nothing else mattered more to the Japanese Ranger at that moment than bringing the other Jaeger _down_.

Striker stopped two strides before Gipsy, and his fingers clenched one last time, forming hard fists. He watched, sensor field a tight buzz. There was no telling what he was thinking, optical sensors as though embers simmering behind the visor. Rain poured over his frame, glistening tracks that rippled under the lights installed on the American mecha. Gipsy glanced at them for but split second. However, that had been more than enough.

Striker lunged. The mud squelched as he pushed from the ground. A punch came hurtling toward Gipsy. The Mark-III beat it aside with a forearm, but the brawler's other fist was already flying toward his gut.

:_Elbow block!_: Raleigh's voice speared through the grinding of gears and hissing of pistons.

Gipsy tugged his folded arm against his side, and grunted when the punch hit. Striker's engine rumbled as though a chuckle. He charged forward, and crashed into the lither mecha with a shoulder. The Mark-III grappled onto his opponent, fingers digging into slick armor. His feet slid against the wet ground. Puddles of rainwater splashed.

There was no traction. Gipsy was skidding. Striker grabbed him in return, hands clamping around long limbs, and hurled him to the side, a thigh knocking the taller Jaeger off balance.

Gipsy fell on his shoulder. He rolled onto his back. Water flowed off his visor as he looked up, just in time to see a fist slicing through the film of rain toward his face. With a yelp, he yanked himself aside. Striker's punch smashed into the ground. Muddy water sprayed. It spat over the American Jaeger's cheek, and prompted a curt, guttural groan.

Striker turned his head, visor barely visible over the stretch of his arm.

There was a smirk. His sensor field swelled. Gipsy felt his fingers digging grooves into the ground the same moment his pilots clenched their fists. Pushing off his back, he bent forward, and tackled the Mark-V by the midriff.

They fell. Gipsy landed on top. One arm pinning the Mark-V by the chest, he lifted the other, fist poised. Striker seized him by the shoulders, and hooked a leg around his knees. With a snarling cry, he toppled the lither mecha. They rolled. Gipsy once again crashed onto his back. The blue Jaeger did not stay down. He followed the momentum, and punched the brawler straight in the face, a gritted shout wrenching from his vocalizer. Striker's vents let out a blast of hot air. His grip loosened, and the Mark-III used the opportunity to shove him off, heaving back onto his feet.

Gipsy bounded back several steps, and held his fists before him, the Drift melding the thought and will of pilots and Jaeger. He waited while the Australian took his time dragging himself upright. The brawler wiped off a large smear of mud from his face with the back of his hand. He gave it a glance, before flinging it off.

"Heh, not bad." Striker jerked his chin, and stalked around the training ground, visor fixed on the American mecha.

Gipsy did not reply. He kept his opponent in direct sight, circling in tandem.

The Mark-V stopped.

The lither bot tensed, feet digging into the mud.

A growl came from the Australian's chest.

"_I_ am gonna enjoy _pounding _you into the _ground_." He snarled, and swung his fists in a sharp arc down to his sides, visor bursting alight.

Something jolted the taller Jaeger's turbine. Gipsy jumped a little, but he had no time to decipher the abnormality. With a roar, Striker once again came lunging forward. The ground trembled by each step of the Mark-V. Water flew in the air. A thought shot through the Drift, and Gipsy crossed his forearms in front of his face, feet sliding apart in preparation for impact.

The punch struck, driving the American mecha back. Gipsy wasted no time. With a sharp pivot and a shift of weight center, he pushed with one arm, and clenched his other hand.

:_Gut punch!_: Raleigh shouted. The Jaeger shoved with his shoulder, and swung up his fist, burying a direct hit knuckles deep into his opponent's stomach. The blow shook through his arm, rattling his struts. Striker spat out a grunt of pain, but he merely caved inward, visor flashing before he grabbed the American's arm by the wrist, and yanked him into a shoulder toss.

Gipsy fell. The back of his head clanged against his shoulder flap. Puddles splashed. His armor clattered. Grasping for purchase on slippery ground, he tried to sit up, only to have one-thousand-eight-hundred-and-fifty tons of Jaeger crash down into him from a striding leap, elbow beating against the plating of his abdomen.

"—Aagh!" Hot pain sliced through his core. The blue mecha curled, visor flashing in a shocked gape. Inside his Conn-Pod, Raleigh let out an echoing cry. Mako clutched her stomach, lips apart and eyes squeezed shut.

Gipsy moved to follow her gesture. However, before he could, Striker gripped him by the forearms, and pulled. With a roll, the brawler shoved the Mark-III face first into the mud, and pinned him down, one hand clamped around his neck guard, the other around a wrist. Gipsy kicked and thrashed. The tips of his feet dug trenches into the ground. Striker grunted when he was almost thrown off, but he kept firm, and wrestled the taller Jaeger, vents in hot blasts of air that misted in the rain.

Gipsy's turbine ground and shrieked. His ventilation hissed in bursts that spat against the muddy puddles of water. Chest grinding into the sludge, the lither mecha bucked, and the perk of his rear collided against the brawler's pelvic plating. Striker jumped. The hand pressing against Gipsy's neck guard slipped. The blue mecha shoved, and headbutted the Australian straight in the chin.

Striker stumbled. Gipsy scrambled to rise onto his feet. However, the Mark-V was not so easily deterred. With a yank on the still captured wrist, he bore down on the other bot, and dug a shoulder into broad spans of faded, blue plating as he wrapped an arm around the American in a headlock.

Gipsy let out a groaning cry, and scratched at the arm. Raleigh cursed. Mako gritted her teeth, fighting to break free. Frustration mounted, and, amidst the clashing of metal and thundering splatters of rain, the Jaeger could hear Tendo and the Marshall, the former warning of a straining Drift while the latter bellowed what sounded like orders. None of them mattered though. He had to win. He _had_ to. It wasn't until Raleigh started to yell did the mecha finally realize that the spiraling loop of thought did not belong to him at all, but to the young woman still refusing to give up.

:_Mako, this is just a practice run. It doesn't mean anything if we lose!_:

Striker was pulling on his wrist. Pressure began to build in his shoulder.

:_I am _not_ going to let a dishonorable opponent have his triumph!_:

Armor scraped against each other, charge crackling over rain-soaked plating, caked with mud.

:_Striker Eureka, stand down! That is an _order_!_:

The Australian's digits clamped tighter. The pressure grew, until the Mark-III's motor cables stretched to brittle.

Gipsy let out a cry into puddles of murky water, engine in a shrill whine. He bucked and dug his feet into the ground, visor flashing when a stabbing burn stung his sensor net alit with hot, red pain.

"S-Striker Eureka—" His voice pinched. "Eureka!" He struggled and squirmed.

Striker was pressed tight against his back, frame scorching with heat. The brawler's plating was slick. A film of water slid from his body, tickling streams that smeared over faded, blue armor dotted with stains. Gipsy's turbine whirred. His sensor net _crawled_ when the Australian mecha's field enveloped him with a surging wave.

Everywhere was hot. So hot.

It tingled, the friction—

…of a thick thigh grinding against the sensor-rich plating between his legs.

The Drift went silent.

The Marshall was no longer yelling, nor was Tendo.

Raleigh and Mako downright froze, minds wiped clean of thought.

They were stunned, as was Gipsy when he felt a coiled spring of current gathering and writhing inside his core, right below his turbine.

"Striker—!" He panicked. "You're hurting me!"

His cry slashed through the curtain of shock that had permeated the Drift. Mako jumped, and her heartbeat immediately started to gallop. Raleigh shook his head. His temperature was higher than normal. Striker Eureka tensed, as though confused. Then, with a lurching hitch of ventilation, he released the American Jaeger, and stumbled back, falling to the ground.

Gipsy scrambled onto his hands and knees. He pulled up his legs, and kept his head lowered, visor pointed down. He didn't know what just happened. His pilots couldn't seem to wrap their minds around it either. All Gipsy knew was that it was strange, and that if it weren't for his throbbing shoulder joint, it might've even felt kinda _good_, even _if_ it was big bad Jerk doing it to him while sloshing around in the mud.

It was still scary, though. What if it was a malfunction? The Jaeger tensed, and hasted to run a diagnostic, though a simultaneous wince from his pilots halted his effort, the bombardment of codes drilling a headache. There was a dry cough from the comm. Marshall Hansen broke radio silence, and instructed that they return to base, thus concluding their evening excursion into the woods.

"Are we going to do this again?" Gipsy asked as they pushed through the trees.

Striker kept silent. The Marshall didn't answer either.

The Mark-III paused, and looked over his shoulder.

He startled.

There was something in Striker's gaze that wasn't there before, a faint glint that stirred as the brawler peered back into his visor.

Raleigh and Mako didn't help decipher the look. They were silent, Raleigh uncharacteristically so, which made Gipsy nervous. The lither mecha turned back around, and resumed his walk. His shoulder still kinda hurt, so he gave it a roll.

A hand landed on that shoulder, making the American Jaeger jump, vents in a hitch. Head swirling around, Gipsy gaped.

Striker was staring at him.

The rain continued to fall. The forest began to mist, pale breaths of vapor hovering between the trees.

The Australian's fingers squeezed a little.

"Sorry." He murmured, and took off his hand, letting it dangle, limp, down by his side.

Gipsy couldn't believe it.

The cocky jerk of a butt just…

_Apologized_.

For _winning_.

Suddenly a little flustered, the blue Jaeger spun back around, and gave his head a hurried shake.

"It's ok." He mumbled, and fiddled with his fingers before continuing his trek, steps quick and kicking up globs of wet grass.

Striker followed after a while.

Gipsy could feel him watching, even as they entered the hangar, and went to their respective launch bays.

* * *

**Notes:** "Chibi Maruko-Chan" is my childhood. Such a cute show! As for the "giant light bulb" thing - it's just another way of calling someone a third-wheel, haha!

Anyways, many thanks once again to all of you awesome people who reviewed! _FantasyFlinger_, _BigMammaLlama5_, _futurechild77_, _Erin Primette_, _XxLosAngelesGirlxX_, _Lumira Constance_, _Guest_, _IridescentMemory_, _Thunderweb_, _Sounddrive_, _prismadecepticons_, _Tsukimine12_, _femme4jack_, _Lucadris_, _Starsong008_, _ultimatemh_, _Ronnie Ravello_, _Anon_, _RocketPAPrika_, _Salinea_, _XRaiderV1_, _Wommera_, and _heretherebemonsters_: your support means a ton!

So…I guess it's clear now where this Jaeger shipping is going. XD I have some ideas about the general direction of this story as well. All I can say is, if I manage to keep this up, we're in for a hell of a ride!

Feedback would be amazing. I'd love to know what you guys think. Next update might come a little later, since I have to work on other projects (*cough*"Insatiable"*cough*). Until then, hope this chapter sufficed in satisfying you. :)

Reviews, please~?


	4. Sleeping Beauty

Disclaimer: Don't own Jaegers, though I own their sentience. Muahahaha.

I need sleep.

**Warning:** Edited at 3 am. Please excuse any mistakes you spot.

* * *

Chapter 4: Sleeping Beauty

A few days later, Gipsy forgot all about the strange event in the mud, and Striker went back to being the arrogant asshole everyone knew him for. Marshall Hansen asked Cherno Alpha if he would like to move into the main base, but the Russian Jaeger refused. The Old Hangar was a bit haggard to live in, though, so the man in charge decided to give it a renovation, to patch up all the holes in the ceiling and redo the ventilation system.

A team of soldiers were assigned the task, under the watchful eyes of the construction staff. Cherno helped out with the heavy lifting. He always stayed in the vicinity, available whenever he was needed. Gipsy decided to offer his aid as well, since he didn't have much to do around the Shatterdome. The Mark-III was too big to tinker. However, he discovered a real penchant for painting walls, finding the repetitive motions of bristles against metal soothing to his turbine.

He'd even taken to bringing a little artistic liberty to the work. No one has scolded him for it yet, so it should be alright.

Gipsy was in the middle of painting a big, egg-yolk sun when he realized that he'd run out of orange. The buckets are too tiny for his Jaeger needs. They should get a truck. The American mecha took a step back to inspect his work, and craned his head to peer at the sky for reference. A seagull flew by, gliding toward the ocean, where waves splashed against rock.

The sun was nowhere to be seen, though. It was hiding behind a wad of cloud.

Great. Just his luck.

Gipsy made a small humph, and glowered at the cloud.

It did not move, so the Jaeger sighed, and decided to find another bucket of paint.

Most of the materials used to repair the Old Hangar were piled up in the small courtyard in front of the gates. The paint, however, was put inside, neatly stacked up by colour. Gipsy walked around construction vehicles, and dodged a small group of humans huddled around hologram blueprints. The projector was having technical difficulties. It kept on flickering from page to page, and no matter how much the workers whacked at its corners, it refused to cooperate.

The weather was warmer now, but the inside of the Old Hangar was still cool. Gipsy squatted before the stack of paint, and surveyed his options, rubbing his chin with a finger and unknowingly smearing a streak of yellow. From what he remembered, the sun was red in most pictures. Scooting along the line of buckets, he reached its end, and checked the sample swatches to find a shade he liked.

The ventilation kicked on. A waft of air swept through the hangar.

Flutter-flutter.

Gipsy looked to the left, and spotted the black curtain, which had slid back a few inches from the side wall. The Jaeger stared at the small opening, curiosity gnawing at his turbine to reach for the fabric. Raleigh and Mako were away, further inland, visiting a Jaeger Academy. Herc was busy with running the Dome. This left the mecha free license to do whatever he wanted as long as it was not disruptive.

No harm in taking a peek at what laid behind the curtain, was there? All he'd have to make sure afterwards was to return everything to where they were. Cherno Alpha had gone to the main base to retrieve roofing sheets. The soldiers were distracted with the projector. No one would find out.

Mind made, the Mark-III stood up, and crept toward the curtain. He wrapped his fingers around the edge of the fabric, and took one last look behind him before flinging it aside. The curtain slid easily on its rails. Dust rose. It tickled the mecha's intakes. Gipsy batted it away, and jerked in a small sneeze while he peered through the white puffs.

Most of the warehouse must have been cleared for Alpha. The stretch of space behind the curtain was barely three strides in length for a Jaeger. There was a tiny window near the top of the hangar. A single ray of sunlight streamed through, casting a bright, glowing spot on the cloth covering what appeared to be piles of boxes. Some of them peeked through, where the cloth fell. A thick film of dust blanketed everything in sight. Whatever was inside those boxes was probably left here to rot, unattended, forgotten.

Well, this was anticlimactic.

Gipsy let out a tiny blurb of a sigh, and turned on his feet. Something glinted at the corner of his vision. He swirled around, and gave the room another scan. The sun must have emerged from behind the cloud. The stream of light gained a warmer hue. A flash. Gipsy doubled back, and saw that the cloth had holes, through one of which was something that shined.

Curious, the Jaeger took a small step forward, and zoomed in on the hole. It was too small to pick out what lay behind it, so the mecha crouched down, and pinched a corner of the cloth with his fingers. He pulled, sealing his vents when a new wave of dust rose from the disturbance. The cloth slid back, revealing blackened red plating streaked with faded decal, one that immediately struck the mecha as familiar.

…Where had he seen it before…?

Perhaps if he just pulled the cloth down a bit more—

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Gipsy jumped, and cried out in alarm. He stumbled, falling onto his knees in fright. Jerking in a turn, he landed on his butt, and gaped up at the towering figure who's caught him snooping. It was Cherno Alpha. He seemed to be very displeased. The Mark-III shriveled, and held up his hands in front of his chest. "I—I'm sorry!" He hurried to explain. "I didn't mean to look but the curtain was open and I—"

Alpha lifted a hand.

"Quiet."

Gipsy immediately shut up, and lowered his head in guilt.

"Come." The Mark-I instructed, and walked out through the curtain, holding it up for the American mecha.

Head still drooped, Gipsy climbed back onto his feet, and shuffled out after the older Jaeger. From the corner of his visor, he watched Alpha pull the curtain closed, careful to make sure that everything was covered this time. As soon as the old tank turned around, the blue mecha raised his head to apologize. However, Cherno lifted his hand once again, and pointed at the gates.

"Out." He said, and the blue mecha had no choice but to obey, shoulders curling inward as he left the hangar.

Stupid curiosity.

Gipsy cursed his lack of self-restraint.

Why couldn't he have just grabbed his bucket of paint and gone back to decorating the wall?

Alpha followed him out, footsteps quiet thuds. Just as the American Jaeger was about to excuse himself, the older mecha stalled him with a hand on his shoulder. "You know." The Russian's reactor rumbled, and the visored bot stared, confused about what the Mark-I meant.

"I…I know…what?" Gipsy asked, when the other Jaeger did not elaborate.

Alpha kept silent, still like a monument.

"Know—…" Gipsy gave his head a slow shake. "You mean…the—…" He made a small wave with his hand, "…behind the curtain?"

"Yes." The heavyweight of the two replied, the syllable carrying more growl than necessary.

Gipsy squirmed on his feet. He didn't even catch a glimpse. How was he supposed to know what that was? All he saw was red plating, on top of which were golden swirls. Yeah, they stirred an inkling of recognition in him, but it wasn't like he could pinpoint exactly what that was just by—

Gipsy jolted with a hitch in his intakes. His visor brightened with a flash. Head snapping up, he gaped at the taller mecha, sensor field a heightened buzz. Alpha looked at him, and eventually took a slow nod with his helm. "You know." He repeated, and the lither Jaeger gave his head a quick shake, blinking back the shock whirring his turbine.

"Crimson Typhoon." The American whispered.

"Yes." Cherno affirmed.

"But—" Gipsy spluttered. "…What's he—"

"She."

"What's she doing behind a curtain?"

Sometimes it was hard to believe that Alpha had no optical sensors. Gipsy could've sworn he was being stared at.

"Back, one year. Hong Kong." The Russian began, "Wei brothers, Conn-Pod." He raised a hand, and clenched it into a fist.

Gipsy's visor flickered as he flinched.

"No pilot now." The taller mecha continued, "Finding two, hard. Three," He shook his helm.

That was right. Drift-compatible pairs were already difficult to come by, a slim percentage out of everyone who applied at the Jaeger Academies. Throughout the war, death toll was high. Toward its end, Raleigh had been the last of the original Mark-III pilots. Crimson Typhoon was specifically calibrated for the Wei triplets. The chance of finding replacements for her was practically nonexistent.

"Typhoon like sleeping." Alpha's voice roused Gipsy out of his thoughts. "She miss brothers." The Mark-I said, "Sleep, no miss."

Gipsy looked at the older mecha, a deep throb grinding inside his chest.

Alpha stayed silent for a moment. Then he lifted a hand.

"Gipsy Danger," He placed the hand on Gipsy's shoulder, "No sad, yes?" His fingers squeezed a little before he let go. "Typhoon like sleep. So, she sleep." The Russian tilted a foot toward the Old Hanger. "We paint." He stated, and waited for the lither mecha to move.

Gipsy reset his visor, and lowered his head. He fiddled with his fingers, field a tight shiver atop his frame.

"…Alpha?" He shifted on his feet, and peeked up from the edge of his visor. "Is this why you're here? Why you—…don't want to move to the main base?"

Alpha was still.

"No." He finally answered, after a long silence. "Cherno like alone. Quiet."

Gipsy glanced down. Nodding, he decided to let the topic go, and shuffled toward his unfinished painting of the sun. Halfway there, he jolted to a stop, visor flashing. "…Um," Looking over his shoulder sheepishly, he rubbed the side of his face. "I…need more paint."

Cherno paused in following the American Jaeger.

"We get paint." He said, and turned around.

They ended up moving the buckets outside, to save a trip. By the end of the day, most of the Old Hanger was painted. Marshall Hansen peered at the warehouse with squinted eyes, and asked the Jaegers why it resembled a kindergarten. Gipsy felt a little offended that the Australian man found his drawing childish, but Cherno liked it, so the Mark-III chose not to dwell on the comment.

Being happy was much better.

* * *

Mako and Raleigh still weren't back from the Academy. The instructors invited them to stay an extra night to give a guest lecture, which meant, taking into account of travel time, the two pilots wouldn't arrive back at the Shatterdome until the day after. Gipsy sighed, and rested his chin on his folded knees. He was sitting at the beach, watching the waves lap against rock strewn sand.

It hasn't even been two days, and already the Jaeger missed his Rangers. Though the three of them couldn't always spend time together, just knowing his human friends were close-by was good comfort. With the Old Hangar completely repainted, the American mecha had no more work to do. Evening arrived. The sky was a pool of red streaked with orange, the ocean tinted aflame. The soldiers assigned to construction were getting off their shifts. They trotted toward the main base, laughter loud as they joked and nudged at each other.

Gipsy watched them enter the Shatterdome, and turned back toward the ocean. Along the way, he caught a glimpse of Alpha entering his hangar. The Russian gave him a wave, to which he returned with one of his own. The Mark-III didn't understand how Cherno could stand being alone. If it weren't for the soothing rise and ebb of the waves, the blue bot would've done something crazy by now, like…like telling Striker his proportions made his chest look big.

The lithe Jaeger sighed, and hugged his knees. He was so _bored_. He looked down, and studied the waves inching toward his feet. They looked like they were trying hard to reach him, so he decided to humour them, and dabbed the tip of his right food into the foam, stirring a splash of wet sand.

The water was cool, a crisp chill against his plating. It felt kinda good, so he did it again, this time with both of his feet. Before long, he was ankles-deep in the water, legs outstretched. With nothing better to do, he scooted into the ocean, and waded forward on his butt until he was waist deep in the rolling waves.

He splashed around, flinging his arms, submerged to the elbows. Water slipped between his digits, a smooth, sinewy caress. He kicked his legs, and kneaded his feet into the ocean floor. He stayed until the sun sank below the horizon, the sky a deep purple dotted with emerging stars.

Gipsy walked into the main hangar, dripping sea water and globs of sand. The soldiers on janitor duty were going to hate him, but he planned on helping them out as soon as he got a spray-down. The Shatterdome was quiet at this hour, with only a couple of techs in the LOCCENT and a handful of guards on watch. The lights had already been dimmed. Most humans were probably in the mess hall or rec center, if not turning in for the night.

"Hey."

A voice halted the blue mecha.

Gipsy turned around, and, to his surprise, found Striker, standing a few paces back. He almost didn't recognize the Australian's voice, quiet and a low rumble as it were. The Mark-V's visor was barely a glow, but his stare was focused, a steady pin against the lither Jaeger's. Gipsy didn't understand the intensity behind the gaze, so he scraped back a step, and started to turn.

"Find someone else to bother, Eureka." He tried to dismiss his company. If the sand were to dry, they'd clump on his armor.

Thudding strides. A hand grabbed him by the forearm. Gipsy jumped, swirling around, and found Striker's visor mere feet away from his own. The blue Jaeger felt his motor cables stiffen, optical sensors flashing in a gape. The brawler was close, chest almost plastered against his back. Their fields met, and the Mark-V's smoldered, a film of pinpricks that pressed when the American's tried to retreat.

"I _said_: 'hey'," Striker gritted, "That _means_ I wanna _talk_."

Gipsy stared back. In the end, he couldn't hold the gaze, and averted his visor.

"What do you _want_?" The Mark-III pulled on his captured arm. "Can't it wait until after I get clean?"

Striker's vents whirred, huffs of heat blasting against the blue Jaeger's plating.

"You've been avoiding me." The Australian took a step forward, and yanked the taller bot closer.

"Of _course_ I've been avoiding you," Gipsy dug his feet into the floor. "You're a jerk!"

Striker actually appeared taken back for a split second. Then he scoffed, and threw Gipsy's arm aside to take a distracted scan around the room.

Gipsy rubbed his plating, where Striker's fingers had almost left grooves. The brawler kept glancing about, before rounding on the American Jaeger once again, hands rising to prop on his hips.

"You got seaweed on your back." The silver mecha announced, chin tilted upward.

Gipsy blinked.

"Really?" He started craning his neck, trying to see, but his shoulder flaps were in the way.

Striker watched his antics, and let out a huff. "Stop _moving_." He gave the American a slap on the lower back. "I'll get it."

"-But—"

A warm hand wrapped around the side of his waist.

Gipsy froze.

Its fingers were firm around the curve of his torso, an even pressure keeping him still.

There was a brush, ghosting across the armor of his back.

He jolted when a thumb stroked him in a seam, and another hand anchored on the other side, holding him from squirming away.

Striker took a step closer, and his thumb rubbed, lengthwise, along the lither Jaeger's spinal-strut. It flicked between plates, rousing a hitch from the American mecha's intakes, and curled into the crevice, its tip tickling against muscle strands. Gipsy felt his visor brighten. His turbine sped. His fingers jerked, trying to clench, but he didn't dare form a tight fist, entire frame strung with tension stemmed from the light caresses on his back.

Striker's hands were steady weights around his waist. Even when his thumb stopped its exploration, the brawler kept them there, fingers and palms heating the sensors beneath blue plating. Gipsy ducked his head, and fought to regulate the stutter in his ventilation. The Australian mecha's hands were large enough to cover the small of his back. Jaegers really were built with exaggerated proportions, but that didn't seem as important a detail as before.

Because…well…

Gipsy offlined his visor, and held his intakes when Striker gave his midriff a slight tug, pressing them flush against each other.

That could've been a good insult to rile up the Mark-V. Now, however, it was kind of exciting. Made the back of his turbine itch.

Striker hasn't spoken a single word since putting his hands on Gipsy. His grip trembled. The American could feel it, a minute vibration against the skin of his armor. The silver Jaeger's vents had grown loud, ragged, a tempo that skidded at uneven intervals. His palms inched upward. His frame had gone hot, spreading heat into the blue mecha's back, stirring quicker the spin of the Mark-III's turbine.

"Is—Is the seaweed out?" Gipsy onlined his optical sensors, chest heaving with a lurching reactivation of his intakes when the Australian's hands slid to cup around his upper torso.

Striker tensed.

"…Uhh…Yeah…" His voice sounded croaky. He lingered for a few moments, but slowly took a step back, fingers a last brushing touch as they fell away. Gipsy tried to glance over his shoulder, but he couldn't seem to do it, the plating of his face heating every time he thought about meeting the brawler's visor.

"I think, um," The blue Jaeger dipped his head, and picked at the joints of his fingers. "I think I'm going to go wash now."

Striker was silent at first.

Gipsy could feel his visor scorching his back.

"…Yeah." The Australian mecha finally answered. "Yeah, you do that."

They stayed on their spots, neither moving, until the Mark-V shuffled in a turn to leave. Gipsy kicked off at the same moment, steps hurried toward the wash bay. His turbine wouldn't settle, not even after he got his hose-down. He never did figure out if there had been seaweed stuck between his plating on his back. His sensors hadn't detected anything, and they were usually sharp.

Gipsy kept that to himself, though. He never confronted Striker about it.

That night, as they slept in the hangar, the Mark-III's plating tingled, as though a hand was caressing him. Sometimes, he'd catch whiffs of a flaring sensor field from his far left, but he never once onlined his vision to peek at Striker.

He didn't understand what was happening, and while he was curious, he was also a little wary.

What if Mako and Raleigh didn't approve? He'd rather please his pilots than someone he considered a jerk.

* * *

Gipsy sat on the grass field, waiting for the copter bringing Raleigh and Mako back to the Shatterdome. The day began to warm as the sun rose. Fluffy, white clouds waded across the blue sky.

There was a group of humans barbequing on the beach. Techs and soldiers, having a beer. Striker, for some reasons, was lounging beside them. The Australian Jaeger didn't interact as much with the staff as Gipsy did. However, he seemed to be having a good time, swaying in time with the music some of the people were dancing to.

The gate to the Old Hangar flew open, followed by Cherno Alpha bolting through. Gipsy jumped, back straightening. The Russian mecha's footsteps shook the ground, noise that boomed across the beach. Striker jolted in a turn, as did all the humans with him. Everyone stared at the Mark-I rushing toward the base. The soldier closest to the stereo turned off the music.

Cherno disappeared into the main hangar. People glanced at each other, Striker over the field at Gipsy. Curiosity nipping at his turbine, the American bot got up. On the beach, Striker did the same. The two walked into the Shatterdome, and found a crowd gathered on the platform just outside the LOCCENT, with Marshall Hansen in the middle, a big grin on his face.

"True?" Alpha stood before the platform. As Gipsy got closer, he was surprised to find the fortress of a Jaeger trembling in the fists, sensor field rippling the air.

The Marshall gave a single nod, eyes bright.

"Yes, Cherno," The Australian man said, "I got a call just this morning. She's awake. Still bed-ridden, but she's awake."

Gipsy felt his intakes gasp. Beside him, Striker's head perked up.

"You mean," The American mecha trotted closer, "Mrs. Kaidonovsky is awake?"

Herc looked at him, and nodded once more, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"That's wonderful!" Gipsy exclaimed, and bounced on his feet. "Alpha, this is great news!" He turned toward the taller bot, field a giddy quiver. "Are you happy?"

Alpha didn't even seem to hear him, the growl of his reactor a constant rumble.

"Lady," He asked, "I visit Lady?"

At that, the Marshall's grin dropped a little.

"Sorry, big guy, we can't have you strolling around a city. The world doesn't know about Jaegers having minds of their own."

Before the Mark-I could wilt, the Australian pilot continued:

"But I'll see about bringing her here when she recovers." He leaned forward, and wrapped his hands around the railing. "She's been asking about you. She yanked an agent by the tie and smashed his head against the bedside counter when he told her that's classified." Eyes glimmering, he chuckled. "So I don't think her recovery will take long at all."

A murmur of laughter swept through the gathered crowd. Gipsy looked at Alpha, visor bright. The Russian Jaeger took a deep cycle of air, and straightened his posture.

"I will wait, for Lady." He stated, shoulders squared. "But…" He inclined toward the Marshall, "I have request."

"Yeah?" Herc asked, head tilted up.

Alpha seemed to stare at the human.

"Permission to build garden, sir." He said.

* * *

**Notes: **Special thanks time once again! To _Lumira Constance_, _XxLosAngelesGirlxX_, _Sounddrive_, _Valacre_, _Lucadris_, _Starsong008_, _BigMammaLlama5_, _PwnKage_ (Darling! Seeing your username again makes me happy, haha! -hugs-), _Salinea_, _futurechild77_, _The Winged Pyro That Drowned_, _Tsukimine12_, _IredescentMemory_, _Ronnie_ _Ravello_, _Kerro-chan_, _Cycloprax_, _heretherebemonsters_, _Empress of Hats_, _Blitz-Krazi-1_, _femme4jack_, _SpartanM60_, _keeperofcoldtoes_, _Kit_, and _nightkings_, much love and many embraces for your support and kind words!

Crimson, tension, and Mrs. Kaidonovsky. I'd try to say something clever here, but I'm too tired, so I bid you good night, readers!

Reviews give me sweet dreams. I'd love to receive your feedback. :)

…I want a Jaeger to paint my house.


	5. The Flower Bed

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am neither Travis nor Guillermo. Therefore, I cannot claim ownership of this wonderful universe they've created. :'(

* * *

Chapter 5: The Flower Bed

The Shatterdome has never been as quiet as it was after Alpha's request to build a garden.

Marshall Hansen blinked, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Cherno. Can you repeat that?"

"Permission to build garden, sir." The Russian repeated, dutifully, not a single syllable altered.

More gapes were exchanged. Gipsy glanced about, chin dipped.

"Uhh," Herc straightened from the railing, and brushed a hand through his hair, "Where do you plan to build this garden?" He frowned, disbelief apparent in his expression.

"Grassfield." Alpha answered. "Many sunlight. Flowers like sun."

"Right." The Marshall stared.

The Mark-I seemed to have put a lot of thought into this.

"I, uhh…" The commanding officer gave his head a slow shake, "I don't see why you can't." He laughed a little, incredulous. "Why, though? What brought this on?"

Gipsy peeked at the massive tank of a mecha from the corner of his visor. Alpha did not reply right away. His field settled into an even pulse of swells.

"Big Sir," The Russian Jaeger began, "Babushka—…" He paused, "Big Sir mother's mother, had garden," He explained. "Lady, Big Sir, want house, garden. Like Big Sir babushka. Dream. After kaiju.

"_Home_.

"For Lady, Big Sir, and Cherno."

The following silence carried a weight that dragged. Gipsy's turbine spun with a low whirr. Striker shifted beside him. A moment later, a warm hand wrapped around his waist. Gipsy did not look at the Australian, but he did not protest against the gesture. The blue mecha kept his attention on Alpha, and, a short while later, the hand dropped.

Marshall Hansen's expression grew somber. He looked at the Mark-I, and his eyes gleamed. He made a single nod, and kept his head lowered. "I understand." When he lifted his face, he wore a tight-lipped smile. "You have my permission, Cherno Alpha. I will get the tools for you on the next supply run."

Alpha bowed his helm.

"Thank you, sir."

The Marshall nodded again, and took a deep breath.

"Hey," His eyes lit up, "You want to give Lieutenant Kaidonovsky a call?"

Alpha perked with a lilting hum of his reactor.

Herc grinned.

"C'mon." He waved, and walked into the LOCCENT. "Let's see if your lady's awake."

Gipsy watched as the Russian trotted around the platform, to peer into the command center through its windows. When Mako and Raleigh finally arrived back at base from their Academy trip, the blue Jaeger ran out of the Shatterdome to greet them, and immediately settled onto his knees so his pilots could hug his hand. He wished he could hug them back, to give them a tight squeeze and sweep Mako off her feet like how he'd seen Raleigh do. However, for now, this was enough. At least he had both pilots. He didn't dare imagine what would happen should he lose either one of them.

That night, after the Rangers debriefed their Academy visit, the three of them spent hours lying on the grass field, looking at the stars. Raleigh and Mako climbed up onto Gipsy's chest. They laid there, backs warm against the Jaeger's plating, and Gipsy tilted his head every once in a while, just to look at them. They were so small, so fragile, yet resilient, as though nothing could stand in their way.

With a Jaeger at their fingertips, very few things _could_.

That thought comforted Gipsy, so he took a vent full of air, and leaned back against the grass.

Life was good.

Life was as it should be.

He had everything he could possibly want. If time could stall right at that moment, he would've been content to let it loop.

If he could stay here forever, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Well.

In a single turn of his turbine.

* * *

A week later, the gardening tools arrived. They consisted of a shovel, a rake, and a little cart, as well as some buckets, a watering pot, and large bags of fertilizers. They were tiny in Cherno's hands, but the Russian was especially careful when using them, squatted before the little patch he'd picked in the grass field. He had already turned up the soil and cleaned out the rocks. He was digging shallow grooves into the ground when Gipsy arrived and sat down beside him.

"What kind of flowers did the Marshall get for you, Alpha?" The blue mecha asked, peering curiously as the Mark-I spread seeds into the grooves.

"Sunflower," Cherno answered, "Daylily, petunia, marigold." He looked to the side, at the small packages. "Daisy." He added.

"Wow, that's a lot." Gipsy pulled his knees against his chest, and wrapped his hands over them. "Do you know how to grow them?"

Alpha straightened from his burying of flower seeds, a shovel in hand.

"Seed in ground. Water. Flower grow." He replied, and turned toward the American Jaeger. Cherno had no optical sensors, but they stared at each other anyways, a long silence hanging between them while a butterfly fluttered by.

"Oh." Gipsy reset his visor in a blink, and rested his chin on his knees. "I guess that's all there is to it." He watched the older bot plant the remainder of seeds, and helped pat the soil firm. "Is there anything else I can do?" He asked after they covered the grooves with a thick layer of fertilizer.

"Yes," Alpha handed him the watering pot. "You water flower."

"Okay." Gipsy chirped, and began to drizzle the garden while the Russian poured bucketful of water into his palms before sprinkling the soil.

"How long do you think it will take for the flowers to come out, Alpha?" The lither bot glanced at his company as he went over the grooves with the water can.

"Don't know." Cherno shrugged. "Maybe one hour."

"That fast?" Gipsy gaped.

"Maybe." The Mark-I said. "Maybe two."

The blue mecha hummed, and nodded. "That sounds more likely."

Very soon, the water was gone. The two Jaegers stayed by the garden, watching the ground.

"Do you think this will make them grow faster?" Gipsy asked.

"No." Alpha said, but he kept watching anyways. Or at least gave the impression of watching.

Distant footsteps came within auditory range, gaining in volume. The trees rustled, and a silver chest stuck through, followed by the rest of Striker Eureka. The Australian emerged from the forest, and jolted to a stop when he noticed the other two Jaegers. His head tilted back, and the brawler stared, back and forth between the sitting bots.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked.

"Gardening." Gipsy answered, and returned to his dutiful watching of the little flowerbed.

Alpha kept silent. He never looked up from his garden.

Striker let out a huff. He lingered on Gipsy's peripheral, shifting on his feet.

"I found a waterfall." The Australian announced after a long stretch of silence.

"Oh." Gipsy didn't spare him a single glance. "Okay."

The silence returned.

A breeze flowed past their frames. By the ocean, a seagull called. Waves splashed against the rocky beach.

"…_Well_?" The Mark-V shuffled. "You gonna come or not?"

Gipsy turned his head. "Come to what?"

"The waterfall!"

"_Why_?"

Striker seemed taken back by the question.

"Well…" He looked lost. "Don't you _wanna_ see it?"

Gipsy thought about it. "I don't know." His visor flashed. "Is it pretty?"

Striker stared.

"Uhh," He actually sounded like he's never even thought about it. "…Yeah…?"

Gipsy hummed. He looked at the flowerbed, and glanced at its diligent Jaeger protector.

"Do you want to come, Alpha?" The blue mecha asked.

On the other side of the little patch, Striker bristled.

"Hey!" The Australian barked. "I never asked _him_!"

At that, Cherno looked up. Along with Gipsy, they stared at the Mark-V, whose sensor field abruptly plastered against his plating in alarm.

"I-I—…uhh…" Striker's visor glowed even under the sun. "Aaargh—…_Fine_!" He let out a grinding blast of air through his vents. "What, you wanna come too?" He snapped at the Russian, chin raised.

Alpha peered. His sensor field pulsed with amusement.

"No." The older mecha replied, and turned back to his garden. "You go, Gipsy Danger."

Striker let out a huff, and crossed his arms. Gipsy ignored the Australian's antics, head inclined toward the Mark-I.

"Are you sure? I can stay if you want." The blue Jaeger murmured.

"I am sure." Cherno answered. "I watch flowers."

"Okay." Gipsy pushed onto his feet, and dusted his butt. "Sorry, Alpha. I'll be back soon. Promise!"

Cherno nodded.

With a glance over his shoulder, Gipsy strolled after Striker, who'd already turned around and started wading back into the forest. "Come _on_." The Australian Jaeger got impatient with his shuffling, and grabbed him by a wrist. "Hurry up."

Gipsy yelped as he was yanked forward. He tripped over a fallen tree, and stumbled into the other mecha, hand latching onto broad shoulders and chest bumping against the brawler's back.

Striker jumped.

They gaped at each other, until the lither bot broke their visor contact, head ducking to the side.

His turbine let out a tiny whirr, but luckily, Striker chose that moment to clear his intakes. The brawler continued on his walk. His fingers slid from Gipsy's wrist, and clasped around the blue mecha's digits. He led the way through the thicket of trees, mindful to inform the American Jaeger when there were obstacles in their path.

They walked through the forest. Shrubs rustled by their feet. Animals skittered away. Birds flew from the canopy of branches, and Gipsy watched them glide through the sky, where large clumps of clouds floated, heavy at the bottom but wispy on top. The mossy ground squished under his weight. However, it did not stick, not like on the night they had a spar.

Memories from that evening fleeted back. Gipsy felt his turbine skid, and immediately dispelled the thought with a flustered shake of head. His cheeks grew warm. His fingers tightened around Striker's. The Australian tossed a look back, and the blue Jaeger glanced up in return. Their visors met for a split second, but it was enough to hitch the lither bot's intakes. What was going on? He's never acted like this around Striker before.

"We're almost there." The brawler said.

"Okay." Gipsy muttered in reply.

They traveled a little longer, until the soft, tinkling murmur of water came within earshot. Gipsy perked up, visor in a flash. Striker nudged aside a tree, and a small lake appeared into view, circled by a slim bank of grass. There was a little lump of a hill where water flowed down from, with stacked rocks peeking through. The trees were tall here, but the lake was just large enough to form a clearing, rays of sunlight streaming into the water's clear depths.

Gipsy felt his chest heave in a quiet gasp. He stopped in his tracks, and swept over the scenery with a gape, visor brightening. Beside him, Striker let out a chuckle. There was a slight tug on his fingers. That was when the American Jaeger realized that he was still one foot in the forest. Blinking out of his stupor, the Mark-III entered the clearing, and squatted down right by the lake. He dipped his fingers into the water, and swished them around, letting out a small laugh.

Striker sat down beside him, perhaps prompted by their still joined hands. "Pretty?" He asked, thumb brushing over the blue mecha's digits. Gipsy nodded, and scooped up a palm-full of water before letting it trickle through his digits. Turbine in a content whirr, the lither bot plopped down on the grass as well, and put his feet into the lake.

"This isn't a waterfall, though." He commented as he kicked his legs. "This is more like a water stream."

Striker let out spluttering huff. "It only looks small 'cause we're big."

Gipsy hummed, in too good of a mood to argue. "Do you know what this lake is called?" He asked instead, head tilting toward his company.

"No." The Australian leaned back on an arm, visor on the scenery. "Wanna name it?"

The Mark-III blinked.

"It doesn't have a name?"

Striker shrugged.

Gipsy kept silent for a while, and turned back to look at the clearing as he thought.

"…Are we allowed to name things?" He asked, as he didn't know how naming a lake worked.

Striker turned toward him, and leveled him a deadpan stare. "Are you fucking serious?"

The American shrank back.

"_What_?"

"You don't need permission to _name_ something." The Mark-V did another of his head-toss eye-roll. "It's just a name."

"Names are important." Gipsy argued, "People spent a lot of time to think up a name for us, you know."

That seemed to shut Striker up. The silver mecha studied his counterpart's face for a long moment before looking toward the lake once more, vents in a burst of a sigh. "Yeah, I guess…" He mumbled, and took his hand from Gipsy's, lying back on his elbows.

Gipsy's fingers clenched a little at the absence of warmth. He watched the Australian. "'_Striker Eureka_' is quite a name." The blue mecha said. "The Hansens must have seen a lot of hope in you when they met you for the first time."

Striker doesn't respond, visor dimming to a faint glow. His sensor field drew tight around his frame, a mere ripple atop his plating.

Gipsy looked down, and decided to drop the topic. He let out a long, happy sigh, and flopped back onto his elbows as well, head dipped by the chin so he could look at the view over his chest.

"…Lake Yancy." He blurted out, and swirled toward his fellow Jaeger. "What do you think?"

Striker looked at him.

"You sure that's ok?" He asked.

Gipsy nodded.

"Huh." The brawler paused. "Sure." He shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Gipsy felt a smile warming his optical sensors. He turned back to the lake, and watched the tiny waterfall.

"You should put your feet into the lake too." He suggested after a short break of silence, and splashed with his feet just to entice the Australian Jaeger. "It feels really nice."

Striker snorted. However, he shuffled on his butt, and dunked his feet into the water as asked.

Pleased, Gipsy bobbed his head. He didn't know why Striker was so adamant against Alpha coming here. The American mecha was sure Alpha would love it here too. In fact, everyone would probably love it here. It was a great place for picnics. The pilots could grab the barbeque. It would make a wonderful day trip.

Speaking of pilots…

"Have you shown this place to Marshall Hansen yet?" Gipsy asked, casting a look to the silver bot beside him.

Striker froze.

"Uh…no." He grumbled.

"Why not?" The Mark-III quirked his head.

Striker growled his engine.

"Why not you _shut up_ and enjoy the view?"

Gipsy felt his good mood sour. Once a jerk, always a jerk. He sent the Australian a glare, and turned back to the lake with a "humph". The silence that followed was different from the one before. It prickled, like pinpricks poking into seams. The blue Jaeger shifted on his elbows, and glanced at his company. Striker was staring at the lake. His visor appeared glazed, sensor field a flat, tight film against his plating.

The Mark-III lowered his head. Maybe he shouldn't have asked. He'd decided to drop the topic about the Hansens, after all, but there he went, asking about them again.

"Hey!" An idea flashed across his mind. With a shove, the lither bot sat up. "I just realized something!"

Striker sent him a flicker of visor.

"What?"

"Your name!" The American exclaimed, rounding on the Mark-V.

The prone Jaeger took a defensive air around him. "What about it?" He asked, field suspicious and voice tense.

"It's _really_ fun to say." Gipsy smiled, and blinked when Striker not only did not seem curious, but started leaning away, side-glancing him.

"I don't even wanna _ask_." The silver bot muttered.

They stared at each other.

"Ugh, fine," Striker sighed, and pushed up into a sitting position. "I'll bite." He turned to face the blue mecha, an elbow on a propped up knee. "Why is it fun to say, Gipsy Danger?"

Gipsy's visor flashed as he threw up his arms.

"Eurrrrrreka!" He announced, visor bright with a grin.

Striker was silent. He actually looked like he'd shorted something in his processing module.

"…I fucking hate you." He stated, and Gipsy balked, enthusiasm wilting by the second.

"You're such a butt." The American bot scooted a few feet away. "No sense of humour at all."

Striker's visor flashed alongside a bristle in his field.

"What did you just say?" The brawler sat up higher.

By the time they returned to the Shatterdome, they were both covered in mud and bits of lake vegetation. As they got their spray-down in the wash bay, Striker offered to help the Mark-III scrub his back. Gipsy didn't know why he agreed. He knew the Australian's touch would linger. When they were comfortable and clean back in their holding bay, the blue Jaeger peeked at the brawler, who had fallen asleep, sensor field an even pulse around him.

His Angle Wings were high arcs on his back, outlines glinting under the few lights scattered across the hangar.

Gipsy's fingers twitched as he swallowed down the urge to touch them. He ducked his head, and fought to ignore the persistent itch that tickled the back of his turbine. There was a sliver of charge that refused to go away, furling and coiling deep in his gut. Falling asleep was impossible. It didn't help that the memory of Striker pressing tight against him refused to leave his mind, the sensation of hands clamped around his wrists as the Mark-V wrestled him into the ground.

…And the way water bounced off of silver plating when the Australian sprayed himself with a hose…

Gipsy squirmed, and let out a tiny whine when his turbine roared as though incited for a night of battle. Several uncomfortable minutes later, footsteps echoed in the hangar, and a familiar figure came into view, wearing a night shirt and loose-fitting pajamas pants.

"Raleigh?" Gipsy squatted down before the pilot. "What are you doing up so late?"

The blond man shrugged, and smiled at him. "Can't sleep. Too hot."

The Jaeger blinked. The air was pretty cool.

"I'm gonna take a stroll on the beach." The Ranger jerked his head toward the gates, "You wanna come with?"

"Okay." Gipsy answered, and followed after the American man, steps tiny shuffles compared to his usual strides to match the pace of the human.

The ocean was black at night, tips of its waves glittering with silvery light from the moon. The repetitive rumbling of water crashing against rock was soothing to the mecha, and for his friend as well, judging by the calm gaze on the pilot's face.

Gipsy never did figure out what Raleigh had meant by the weather being too hot. However, the Jaeger found that taking a walk helped clear his frame of its persistent itch.

When he returned to the hangar, and bid goodnight to his Ranger a second time, he slept a lot easier.

* * *

**Notes: **Awwww, Striker and Gipsy on their first date. Kind of. They grow up so fast. -tear- Haha!

Oh man, I _really_ shouldn't have stayed up until 7am last night reading manga. I'm so tired right now. If there's anything that doesn't quite work in this update, that would be why.

Anyways, as per custom, special thanks time! To _Lucadris_, _Empress of Hats_, _Sounddrive_, _Linzerj_, _femme4jack_, _Lumira Constance_, _XRaiderV1_, _Erin Primette_, _Liana Soul_, _Xahraxs_, _Kerro-chan_, _IridescentMemory_, _Ronnie Ravello_, _XxLosAngelesGirlxX_, _The Winged Pyro That Drowned_, _heretherebemonsters_, _futurechild77_, _prismadecepticons_, _SpartanM60_, _Cycloprax_, _FashionablyHospitable_, _Starsong008_, _Salinea_, _Tsukimine12_, _CatGirlFireflare_, _Tel nok shock_, _Blitz-Krazi-1_, _SPhantom_, _Xoraan_, _Lewaka_, _Madsluads_, and _Drakefire_, your reviews and support mean a lot. Thank you very much once again! :/)

**IMPORTANT NOTICE **regarding the **Russian pilots' names**:

I will be abiding to the _ending credits_ of the movie, where _Aleksis_ is _Mrs. Kaidonovsky_, for no reason other than my own personal preference. I know Mr. Beacham has clarified the confusion, but I just like Sasha being the man more. "Sasha" is gender neutral anyways, and I enjoy the idea of the man having a softer sounding name whereas the woman has harsher consonants. If this really bothers you, you can pretend Lady decided to keep Big Sir's name to commemorate him. Thanks for the understanding!

Review, please? Feedback is much welcomed. :)


	6. A Chip in the Looking Glass

Disclaimer: No own.

* * *

Chapter 6: A Chip in the Looking Glass

The following nights, Raleigh left his quarters in the middle of lights-out as well.

"Is it still too hot?" Gipsy asked the fifth time he joined the Ranger on the beach.

"Nah," The pilot shook his head with a grin, "That was just one time."

They walked along the ocean, and arrived at a small cliff. The Shatterdome was a mere blip of shadow against the dark sky twinkling with stars. The outline of the Old Hangar was a little crisper. Gipsy only kept a few of his lights on, just enough for him and his human friend to see. Raleigh took a seat on the edge of the cliff, so the Jaeger slid down, and sat on the beach with his back against the cliff-face, to be at eye-level with the blond man.

Raleigh put his elbows on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined before him. He looked out at the ocean, and his brows were in a slight frown. Gipsy watched him from the corner of his visor. He fiddled with his digits, and didn't know what to say. Mako, despite being more reserved, was easier to talk to. Raleigh, on the other hand, spoke all the time, but when they were alone, he had a quiet about him that was hard to get through.

Gipsy looked down, and wiggled on his butt. The beach here was on the rockier side. He was trying to scoot onto the grassy patches when the pilot broke the silence:

"I've been uhh…I've been seeing you with Striker a lot." Raleigh turned toward him. There was an upward tilt on his lips, but his brows remained furrowed.

Gipsy froze. His turbine stalled. He didn't know why, but having the Ranger ask him about Striker made the back of his core lurch, like falling from a great height.

"Um," The Jaeger tugged up his knees, and ducked his head. "Yeah. We've been hanging out."

"Yeah?" The blond turned back to the ocean. The mecha could see him from the top edge of his visor. "What d'you guys do?"

Gipsy squirmed. "Stuff." He mumbled. He didn't want the pilot to know that he's been having fights with Striker again. Upon receiving a frowny look from the Ranger, however, the Jaeger felt like he should clarify:

"We went to a lake he found. Eureka invited me."

Raleigh's eyes widened a little. "There's a lake around here?" He tossed a glance over his shoulder.

"Mmhmm." Gipsy nodded.

"Huh. Didn't know that." The blond seemed to think for a few moments. "Do you know what it's called?"

"Lake Yan—…Um…" The Mark-III felt his spinal strut tighten. He lowered his gaze, and shuffled his feet closer, until his heels touched the base of his thighs. "I-I'm sorry, Raleigh." He whispered, shoulders curling forward, "I named it after Yancy."

Raleigh was silent. He kept still. Gipsy didn't dare look up, afraid of what he might find on the pilot's face. A long silence passed before any response came from the seated man. There was a breathy laugh, followed by the rustling of fabric. The Jaeger risked a brief look. Raleigh had sat back a bit more, knees pulled up. His ankles were crossed right before the edge of the cliff, and he wore a smile on his lips, though, the mecha didn't know why, he looked a little sad.

"That's kinda funny." Raleigh's gaze reached far, all the way to the horizon. "Cause I've been thinkin' about 'im a lot."

Gipsy lifted his chin, and reset his visor in a blink.

"I mean," The human ran a hand through his hair, features in a grimace, "I think about 'im anyways, but recently, it's been, well, _more_." He sighed through his nose, and tugged on his legs to cross them tighter. "It would've been his birthday soon. In a little over a week." The pilot closed his eyes, and rubbed his temple with a propped up hand. "You'd think that, y'know, since it's been _so long_ that I'd—…that I'd lost him…that it'd get easier. Y'know?"

Gipsy _didn't_ know, but he nodded regardless, because the look in Raleigh's eyes when he opened them again made the Jaeger's visor burn.

"I don't even know _why_ I'm-" The Ranger dipped his head, and laughed, the sound quiet huffs, "why I'm telling you this." He shook his head. "I've just been thinkin' about stuff. And sometimes I just wish—…" He pursed his lips, and stared out at the ocean. "I just wish that he were still _here_. 'Cause I wanna share my life with him." The pilot paused to rub his face with his hands. "It's not even…It's not even about him being my co-pilot. 'Cause Mako's great." A small smile. "She's—She's amazing, don't get me wrong. It's just—…" The Ranger sniffed a deep breath. "It's more about family, y'know? Someone you grew up with."

The American man fell silent for a while. His expression grew somber.

"…When I think about all that's changed in my life…" He stopped for a moment, and sighed again, "I think about him _being_ here. About how proud, how _happy_, he would've been for me."

Gipsy watched Raleigh, whose brows were knitted, lips sealed. A deep ache was spreading from the Jaeger's turbine, and, by reflex, his hand rose, cupping over his swirling core. The movement caught the pilot's attention. Raleigh turned, and saw him clasping his chest.

"You okay, Gip?" The human asked, back straightening.

The blue mecha looked back at the blond man, and let out a tiny whimper:

"It _hurts_, Raleigh."

Raleigh froze.

His lips fell apart, and his eyes widened, a gleam pooling on his bottom lids. He stared at the mecha, speechless, stunned. He clenched his jaws, and jerked his head around, two streams of liquid falling down his cheeks.

Gipsy's turbine let out a small, wavering whirr. The ache grew, weight that pressed until his intakes laboured. He watched the Ranger, who took in a deep breath through his nose and rubbed his eyes. The Jaeger felt so fortunate that Raleigh and Mako were still here. To lose someone close – he didn't dare to think about it for even one split second.

Raleigh took another deep breath, and let out a laugh. He lifted his face, and, despite the moisture in his eyes, the grin on his lips was genuine. "Y'know," The pilot tossed the mecha a tickled look, "I had my _first kiss_ during one of his birthday parties." A chuckle shook his shoulders. "She was his girlfriend's friend. I was fifteen and tipsy. We hid in a closet and giggled the whole night." The Ranger laughed again. "It was great. Kinda embarrassing to think back _now_, but great."

Gipsy nodded, and tried to smile. However, he couldn't muster enough urge.

"Hey."

The Jaeger looked up. His pilot was watching him, lips tilted and eyes warm.

"Thanks for listening." Raleigh said, "You and Mako are my favourite girls in the whole entire universe." He was framed by a halo of silver, the moon a cascade of glimmering light over the waves.

Gipsy's visor glowed. He had no trouble smiling this time, turbine speeding as a burst of affection overrode the ache in his chest.

"Raleigh," The bot leaned forward, "You and Mako are my favourite humans."

Raleigh tossed his head back and laughed. He reached forward, and wrapped a hand around the side of the Jaeger's head. He stroked with a thumb, eyes beaming, grin wide on his face. Gipsy nuzzled against the tiny palm, sensors alit with tingles. "By the way," He asked after a brief pause of silence, "What does kissing do? I don't really understand. I don't have a mouth, you see…"

For the rest of their late-night chat at the beach, they talked about kissing, and why humans liked doing it. Gipsy was a little sad that he couldn't kiss anyone, as the intimacy the gesture built between two individuals was beautiful. However, Raleigh encouraged him to find his own way of kissing, which sounded kinda cool. It would help if there was someone he wanted to kiss, someone he could experiment with. For some reasons, Striker kept coming to mind, but that might just be because the only other option was Alpha, whom the American Jaeger respected too much to ever insist such closeness on.

Besides, Striker was hard to ignore, being an ass most of the time. He tended to butt into Gipsy's head even when he had no right to.

The jerk.

When night trickled into wee hours of next morning, Gipsy walked back to the Shatterdome with Raleigh. As they made their way past the grass field, the Jaeger thought he spotted shadows fleeing to the back of the base. He stopped, and peered in the direction the brief glimpses hurried toward. Raleigh asked what the matter was, and admitted that he didn't see anything, so it was probably just the flickering light.

Besides, there was no reason for anyone to be carrying shovels and buckets at this hour.

* * *

"Alpha…" Gipsy felt his visor brighten into a gape. "Your flowers, they grew so big!" The blue Jaeger knelt down, and leaned onto his hands. "I could've _sworn_ they were still in the ground the night before!"

Alpha looked at the flowers, and hummed chuckle.

"They had help."

Gipsy blinked, and turned to the Mark-I beside him.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

The Russian only shook his helm. He did not elaborate. A breeze passed by. The flowers swayed. Alpha reached down, and brushed them with a finger. Gipsy has never seen the large tank of a bot so gentle with anything. The garden must've meant a lot.

The day began cloudy. The air was even a little crisp. Early patrols took out their light jackets, and zipped them up all the way to the neck. As hours went by, however, the sun came out, and the temperature rose, until Gipsy's plating prickled under the hot bake. A few of the techs were lounging on the beach. They were fishing for crabs, though so far, all they've caught were massive sunflower seastars.

A frightened squeal shot across the grass field. The Jaegers startled, and swirled toward the sound. One of the humans, a skittish, thin man in charge of equipment maintenance, swore and flailed as an engineer chased after him with one of the multi-tentacled sea creatures. The chaser laughed, and hollered in surprise when he tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the sea star he was holding.

"Hope it's not poisonous," Gipsy murmured, a little worried.

Alpha hummed in agreement, and turned back to his flowers to water them.

Noon arrived. The weather got even hotter. Gipsy hid under the shade of the forest, and looked up when he heard footsteps coming out of the main hangar. Striker Eureka strode out, vents in a gust of air so loud that even the blue mecha could hear despite his distance. The Australian held his arms away from his body, and hurried toward the beach. Water splashed and parted as the silver Jaeger waded into its depths. He sat down, and fell back with his arms extended, plunging into the waves.

Bubbles rose. Striker was submerged except for his folded knees, which stuck out like twin towers. Gipsy watched, and laughed. It did seem like a good idea, to cool off in the ocean, which always held a comfortable chill. Getting up onto his feet, the Mark-III dusted his butt, and walked toward the beach to join the Australian. Before he could reach it, however, a voice called out, halting his steps.

"Gipsy?" It was Mako, peeking out from the Shatterdome, "Are you busy at the moment?"

"No." Gipsy shook his head.

"Would you like to join Raleigh and me in simulation training?" The pilot asked. "Marshall Hansen made the suggestion in place of fighting another Jaeger. With simulation against kaiju, we won't have to hold back."

"Oh," The mecha tilted his head, "Sure. How does simulation training work?"

"We start the same as normal training, with the drift." Mako explained, and started to lead the way into the hangar. "However, we do not leave the holding bay. Raleigh and I will be active inside the Conn Pod, but your motor functions will be disabled. You will have full freedom to move in the simulation. It will be more like an exercise of the mind for you."

"Okay." The Jaeger nodded, and followed the young woman. It didn't sound too bad. Kinda fun, actually. Gipsy had plenty of memories fighting Kaijus, but none of them belonged to him. The thrill of combat, of metal armor beating into hard, scaled flesh, was more like a whiff of feedback rather than remembered sensations stirring his turbine and warming his circuits. The Mark-III would never hope for another actual Kaiju attack, but he was undoubtedly curious of what he could do against an opponent his size or bigger, with whom he would have no qualms of discharging his plasmacaster.

A short walk later, they arrived at their destination. Raleigh was already there, surrounded by techs helping him into his pilot suit. Mako left to get ready, and Gipsy made his way toward the holding bay. He shuffled into the cove of metal posts and wires custom to fit his frame, and stayed still while the engineers hooked him up to the equipment.

There was a tap at the back of his head. Gipsy slid back the armor, and allowed his pilots entrance into the Conn-Pod. Mako and Raleigh settled into the Motion Rig. The entourage that followed crowded around them. Gear locks snapped in place. A string of tiny clicks sounded as the feedback cradle connected to the spine of the Rangers' suits. Codes flashed and flowed through the data-stream. The mecha only gave them a glance, as they were nothing out of the ordinary.

The techs left. The Jaeger slid his Conn-Pod plating back into place. Cables plugged into the row of ports at the top of his cervical strut, and the pathway for humans to walk on retracted. A Comm. request started blinking on his HUD, which Raleigh activated with a tap of his finger on the hologram display.

"Got your thinking caps on, boy and girls?" Tendo's voice filtered through, ringing inside Gipsy's helm cavity.

Raleigh laughed as he put his helmet on. "Hold on a sec," He replied, and, beside him, Mako did the same with a small smile. Gipsy could feel his pilots' movements. They stirred his sensory relays. He waited while the Rangers double-checked their suits and ran their pre-Drift link analysis. "Yep," The American man answered after the brief pause, "We do now." There was a grin in his voice. "Hook us up, Mr. Choi."

"Dirty thoughts right before the Drift?" Tendo tutted, "The things your co-pilot and Jaeger have to put up with."

"You'd be surprised by which of us is the dirty one." A playful jab from Pilot-One to Pilot-Two. Mako wasn't about to back down.

"This coming from the one hiding questionable reading material under the bed?" The Japanese woman retorted with an airy lilt in her voice.

"Hey, those are _cultural_ _artifacts_." Raleigh countered, "I collected them from all over the world, y'know."

Gipsy muffled a laugh, which got him a look of curiosity from a nearby tech.

"As much as I would love to know the content of those cultural artifacts," Marshall Hansen's voice cut in, "You'll have to continue this conversation another time, Rangers. Maybe in the mess hall after this. I heard they're serving spaghetti and meatballs." He didn't sound like he minded the banter. "For now, prepare for neural handshake."

"Roger that." Tendo spoke up while Mako and Raleigh traded a last few yips. "Initiating neural handshake. Starting in five—"

The pilots shared a laugh.

"-four,"

They took a simultaneous breath.

"three,"

Two exhales.

"two—"

Gipsy offlined his visor.

"One."

It was like being yanked by the belly.

Drift Space.

That was what it was called.

Images.

Voices.

Fragments of memories racing in glimpses, flashing through the blue Jaeger's conscious.

Raleigh fell off his bike.

It was red with three little wheels and a—

_Laughter_.

Mako lost sight of her parents at a festival, but the old lady at the takoyaki stand—

"_That's the _ugliest_ giraffe I have ever seen."_

-gave her a whole bowl for free while she waited for them to come back, so it wasn't all—

A brush against his armor.

Marshall Pentacost hated coffee.

Fishing by the lake.

He only drank it because Luna had liked it.

Yancy stole all the cotton candy.

Crimson getting her Conn-Pod ripped off.

"_The wall is such a _stupid_—"_

Wrestling in the mud. Striker Eureka pressing down, the hot huffs from his vents-

"_/I am your guardian now./"_

_Screaming—_

Hot pancakes-

Why—

Bright light.

Tendo's voice trickled in.

"Everything clear, Gipsy." The J-Tech Chief paused. "Gipsy and Co.," He added. "Neural Handshake steady at one-hundred percent."

"Rangers?" Marshall Hansen called out.

"Left hemisphere ready to go." Raleigh replied.

"Right hemisphere calibrated, sir." Mako reported.

"Gipsy Danger ready for deploy." Gipsy announced.

"Sounds good." Tendo piped up in response. "So. What're you feelin' like today, ladies and gentleman? Tropical beach, or are you more in the mood for somewhere cold? I got ten weathers up for grabs. Can even toss in a few whales for you to save if you're interested. Go crazy. No polka-dotted flying buffalos, though."

"Polka-dotted flying buffalos?" Gipsy asked.

"Don't go there." The tech warned, but he sounded more amused than wary. "They're only fun for about ten seconds until they start clogging up your field of vision."

When the Jaeger's confusion mounted, Mako decided to take pity on the mecha.

"There was an incident a few years ago," She explained, "when the simulation system glitched during a training session."

"Oh."

"How about somewhere warm?" Raleigh suggested aloud. "Generic tropical city? Maybe a vacation hotspot."

No one protested.

"Generic city, comin' right up." Tendo replied. "Disabling motor functions, Gipsy." He informed the Jaeger.

"Okay." Gipsy waited, but nothing happened. He'd expected the sudden sever from his limbs to be mighty uncomfortable. However, there was hardly even a blip from his sensory network.

Probably because he was standing on a white, sandy beach lined by coconut trees.

A long strip of hotels sat behind him. The ocean was a clear shimmer of green-tinted blue. It met the sky at the horizon, where large, fluffy clouds floated. The breeze was warm. Sea gulls glided and called out to each other. Gipsy lifted his hands, and turned them over before his visor. He knew this was all in his mind, but wow did everything look real. He could even catch the salty scent of the sea with his olfactory sensors.

"Any Kaiju requests?" Tendo asked.

A split second of deliberation.

"Hit the 'random' button, Tendo." Raleigh answered for the three of them.

"Adventurous." The tech officer hummed. "Don't blame me if it's a real ugly one."

There was a tiny pause, before Gipsy's radar lit up as an entity appeared within range of his sensor sweep. The water exploded far out in the ocean, and a massive form emerged, a screeching roar announcing its arrival. The Kaiju flared its several tails, and bared its maws. A fin rose on his back, like the mast of a ship. It had a large bulge on its head, one made of bone, protruding from the flesh of its face, where six beady eyes blinked in tandem.

"Oh man, a Cat. Four on your first run?" Tendo clicked his tongue as the colossal creature thrashed about in the waves as though showing off its might.

"Who designed the Kaiju?" Gipsy felt a fluttery itch at the back of his turbine.

A memory flashed through the Drift in response.

"_Hey listen! What if he had like a—_"

Dr. Newton Geiszler.

"_-like a bone dome for bulldozing straight into his enemies and we can add these tentacle tails like, y'know, like on Slattern except there's like ten of 'em and each has a dagger tip that oozes acid for penetrating armor and didn't I tell you they'd have tentacles? I _totally_ called that one, man! _Told'ya_ they'd have tentacles 'cause you can't possibly have monsters coming outta the ocean without tentacles—_"

Gipsy felt his turbine stall with a stuttering grind.

"…And he's drifted with Kaijus?" The Jaeger squeaked.

"Yeaah," Raleigh winced, "let's just hope his vivid fantasies didn't give the aliens any ideas."

On the horizon, the Kaiju stood on its hind legs, and let out another glass-shattering cry.

"What's its name?" Mako asked.

"Hardhead." Tendo replied.

"Fitting," Raleigh commented, and the three of them clenched their fists on a single stream of thought. "Alright, Gip," The American pilot smirked, "Sound the horn."

A loud, blaring clash of sound echoed across the ocean. Gipsy beat his fist against his palm, and strode into the waves. Water parted easily around him, a cool, velvety glide. The sand squished under his weight, pooling around his ankles. The Kaiju answered the call of the horn with a roar of its own. It flared its back fin, and charged, tails whipping about behind its body.

Gipsy dug his feet into the ocean floor, and pushed into a run. His turbine spun faster, pistons hissing as heat surged through his motor relay. Hardhead bludgeoned through the waves, snapping its maws. The blue mecha swung back a fist as it neared, and lunged through waist-deep water, feet grating against coral.

He aimed for Hardhead's jaw, but a quick turn from the Kaiju made his fist shoot right past its head. The creature countered with a claw-strike to his Conn-Pod. Gipsy ducked with a simultaneous squat from his pilots, and activated the jets on his back, crashing into the creature with a shoulder.

The Jaeger shoved. His opponent stumbled. With a jerking toss of his torso, Gipsy drove the Kaiju back, and buried his fist into its stomach, other hand grabbing around the thick neck wrinkled with layers of rubbery skin. Pulling up his leg, the mecha yanked Hardhead down, and smashed its chin into his knee. The finned beast howled, tails thrashing. It seized Gipsy by the waist before the Mark-III could fall back, and shoved, sending the bot crashing into the ocean on his back.

"Argh!" Raleigh gritted a shout with the impact, and fought to heave them upright. Gipsy pushed onto an elbow, and clamped a hand around the Kaiju's face when it tried to chomp on his Conn-Pod. Despite the colliding waves distorting his vision, the Jaeger activated one of his plasma cannons. Charge strummed through his arm. Bursts of ex-vents bubbled through the water. Beyond the quivering blur of shapes, the mecha could see something long and thin rising behind the Kaiju, lifting far above the creature's head.

:_Dodge!_: Mako's thought speared through the Drift the same moment as the tentacle struck down. Gipsy threw his frame to the left, and jolted when its tip plunged into the ocean floor right beside his head, stirring a swelling cloud of sand. Startled, his grip on Hardhead's face loosened. Sensing the opportunity, the Kaiju bit down, and sank its teeth straight into the Jaeger's shoulder.

Gipsy cried out, frame snapping rigid as fangs pierced his armor, stabbing into muscle strands laden with sensors. His neural grid seared with feedback. Streaks of fire sliced through the wirings of his shoulder as Hardhead bit down further, and gave its head a shake. Cables tore. Circuitry splintered. Through the bright, red haze of warnings filling his vision, Gipsy could hear his pilots, shouting from surprise and pain.

More tentacles sprung up behind the Kaiju. They shot down, and some of them missed, plowing into the ocean floor. Two of them nicked Gipsy on the torso. Three embedded into his neck guard. One pierced straight through his right thigh, and melted his plating with acid, driving into the strut of his limb.

Agony drilled into his leg. Gipsy screamed, and thrashed under the Kaiju, hand grasping for the creature's face and digging fingers into its eyes. His cannon soared to full charge. With a single command, he shot the beast on its side, chunks of flesh flying into the air before splattering down into the water, leaving a murky stain in the waves. Hardhead roared, and smacked his hand away. It fell back, and yanked its tentacle out of the mecha's limb, leaving a coat of acid smeared inside the injury.

The acid _burned_, gnawing into the raw wiring of the Jaeger's wound. Shaken, Gipsy climbed back onto his feet, and clutched his thigh with trembling hands. He watched as sea water, mingled with coolant and other fluids, leaked from the gaping hole. Chassis heaving with a reactivation of his intakes, he stood up, rattled, as his turbine spun at the center of his chest, cycling much quicker than the blips of his pilots' heart-rates.

Shock permeated the Drift.

"Son of a bitch!" Raleigh spat out. "What _was_ that?"

No one answered him.

Mako breathed through her mouth.

"Tendo, did you upgrade the system?" The male pilot asked. "I…" His hand tightened around his thigh, a gesture mirrored by the Jaeger, "I _felt_ that, man!"

Silence through the comm.

"What do you mean, Ranger?" Marshall Hansen was the one who replied. "What happened?"

"I—I don't—…" Raleigh shook his head. "…_Pain_." His thoughts were frazzled. "I felt _pain_. I don't remember simulation training as being _painful_. You feel impact and get jostled around but—"

A roar, and the ocean shook as the Kaiju returned with a vengeance, two of its eyes weeping blue blood. It crashed into Gipsy, and punched him in the gut, a claw grasping around an arm and giving it a twist. Gipsy jolted out of his stupor with a cry, stumbling in the water. Fear cracked what little composure he had left, and he gaped at the beast, shaken to the core.

He…remembered this terror.

He remembered this fear, wrenching his innards, until it hollowed all sense and reason.

He remembered pain. He remembered it well, but that was the problem.

He _remembered_ it, but it was not of his own. It did not belong to him, and was not enough to prepare him for _this_.

A glimpse through another's eyes, no matter how intimate, was nothing compared to the relentless grip tearing his arm out of its socket.

The Drift shuddered.

His arm.

His left arm.

Gipsy's breathing quickened.

He felt his right hand wrap around the Kaiju's neck. It tried to clench, but he had no strength left, intakes wheezing for air as panic slammed into his chest. His turbine whirred in stutters. His knees buckled under the creature assaulting his frame. In the Drift Space, he could hear Raleigh and Mako. There was strength from their swings, but it did not translate into his fist, fingers loose and focus scattered.

No.

Gipsy let out a strangled whimper.

He didn't want this.

The Jaeger offlined his visor.

He didn't want pain.

He didn't want fear.

He didn't want to fight this Kaiju.

Why did he have to, when the Breach was destroyed?

Tentacles wrapped around his torso.

Tips like daggers stabbed into his back, slicing into each vertebrae of his strut.

This was just a simulation, but it felt real, each injury on his frame blistering with excruciating agony.

Claw-tips ghosted over his turbine. The mecha screamed, vision exploding into blinding white light as the Drift shattered, echoing within his Conn-Pod the cries of his pilots.

The real world returned with a strike from the Kaiju. Gipsy could still feel it, processors stunned as his sensors buzzed with feedback. Mako and Raleigh hung in the Motion Rig, heartbeats and breaths shallow and fast.

"…Gipsy? Gipsy Danger?" The young woman called out.

The Jaeger has never heard her voice waver like that.

"…What the fuck…?" Raleigh whispered. "…What the _fuck_?!" He tore off his helmet, and almost threw it against the wall of the Conn-Pod. "What the hell just happened?" He started to yell. "Why didn't you stop the simulation, goddamnit?! Gipsy was getting totaled by that Kaiju and she could feel _every fucking thing_, Tendo!"

Silence froze like a thin sheet of ice. Gipsy couldn't even shiver, still severed from his motor functions.

"Raleigh," Mako spoke up, "None of us could have anticipated this," She said. "We rushed into it without thought. It was our blunder as well."

Raleigh didn't answer at first. He took in a deep breath, and held it for a long time before letting out a hissed sigh.

"Y'know what, you're right." He raised a hand to rub his face. "I'm sorry, Tendo." He shook his head. "I blamed you in the heat of the moment, and I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Tendo replied. He sounded shocked still.

"Gip?" Raleigh called his name. "Gipsy? You alright?"

Gipsy kept silent.

"…Oh _shit_. Gipsy—" The American pilot's voice grew tight, "C'mon, Gipsy, talk to me. Talk to me, baby girl."

Gipsy didn't talk.

He couldn't.

He stayed silent, and waited while his pilots disengaged from the feedback cradle and exited his Conn-Pod.

With a short line of code from LOCCENT, the Jaeger's motor functions returned. The engineers disconnected him from the equipment. They did not chatter, tossing hurried glances his way as they worked.

As soon as the last cable plucked away, Gipsy strode out of the rig, rushed out of the Shatterdome. His pilots ran after him, asking if he were okay, but their steps were tiny compared to his, so it wasn't difficult to lose them. The Mark-III pushed through the forest, feet kicking up large chunks of mossy mud. He reached the lake, and collapsed on its bank, intakes hitching in hiccups as his turbine burned.

The mecha offlined his vision, and curled up on the grass. He tugged up his knees, and buried his face against them, counting the cycling of his ventilation until they evened, until they slowed. He had no idea how long he'd stayed there for, only that, eventually, he fell asleep. He jolted awake in the middle of the night, and found Striker lounging beside him, feet dipped into the lake and arms sprawled while he leaned against the trees.

The Australian snored, body bent at an odd angle.

Gipsy watched him for a while.

He scooted closer to the other Jaeger, and fell back to sleep.

* * *

**Notes:** Alpha's flowers grew overnight. They are magic.

The latter part of the chapter kinda came up as a surprise. I didn't expect there to be drama at this point of the story, but here you have it, haha!

Massive thanks to reviewers _PwnKage_, _knightphoenix2_, _Sounddrive_, _Tel nok shock_, _XRaiderV1_, _Basia Orci_, _Lumira Constance_, _XxLosAngelesGirlxX_, _prismadecepticons_, _heretherebemonsters_, _Lucadris_, _Erin Primette_, _UNSC Inferno_, _Sybretooth_, _IridescentMemory_, _femme4jack_, _Blitz-Krazi-1_, _Prototron MJ Tornada_, _Ultra Rodimus_, and _Tsukimine12_. I really appreciate your feedback.

Please drop me a comment down below. I'd love to hear about what you thought as you read the chapter. :)


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